The Lost Souls
by EstellaH
Summary: Rory Deveaux came to London expecting tea-drinking friends and red buses. What she got was a lot weirder. As the hunt for Sid and Sadie continues, Rory is beginning to question whether she was meant to make it out of this city alive. (My take of Book 4.)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the Shades of London series, but I'm sure Maureen Johnson will blow us away when she finishes the fourth book herself! Until then, I wrote my own!

Chapter 1: Rude Awakenings

Stephen's face looked so interesting in the sunlight. All sharp lines and angles, like a statue come to life. The trees rustled softly in the wind around us and I couldn't help but feel that this moment was perfect. For once, London was actually warm… which should have seemed odd to me, but on this perfect day, nothing could feel wrong.

"The mind is a funny thing," Stephen mumbled, reaching over to causally take my hand, a gesture that sent the butterflies soaring in my stomach.

"And what is it about the mind that has triggered your odd sense of humor," I inquired, leaning in to him a little.

"It's just… the things it remembers. Even memories you think you've forgotten can come back to you in the oddest moments. Nothing is ever really lost. Every happiness, every loss, every betrayal is stored away, waiting for the moment to make its reappearance."

The strange workings of the mind seemed like an odd conversation to have on this beautiful day as we walked through the sunlit trees, but Stephen was known for his odd conversations, so I let it go, content to simply be near him. But despite my happiness, something about this moment just didn't feel right.

"It's like déjà vu," Stephen continued, aloof to my worry. "Your mind recognizes that something is familiar, even if you cannot consciously remember why."

The wind blew forcefully for a moment, sending an array of bright green leaves to the ground at our feet… and that's when I knew. Green leaves. It was the beginning of January. What leaves were left clinging to their branches should have been a mottled brown. Green was the color of summer.

"Stephen," I whispered, pulling him to a stop and tightening my grip on his hand. "Where are we?"

"You know, I'm not sure."

We were surrounded by bright green canopies and the soil was oddly mushy under our feet. And as I noticed these things, the smells finally broke through my confusion. The slight musk of the swamp, the Cajun cooking in the air. Louisiana. My home.

"This isn't right. We shouldn't be here," I noted, but before I could work up to a full panic, Stephen's hand was light on my face, turning it towards him. His soft eyes were staring back into mine, rendering my mind a complete blank.

It was when his hand slipped under my shirt, settling on the small of my back, that I realized I wasn't breathing – wasn't even moving. His lips were so close and his London scent briefly blocked out the smells of home. My eyes slipped closed as I rose up on my toes, my heart speeding in my chest with anticipation.

"Rory," Stephen said, only his voice was wrong. A pitch higher, the accent off.

My eyes flew open in alarm, just in time to see his hair flutter in the breeze, shifting from darkest brown to a very light blond. He seemed slightly shorter now, and his lips had widened, turning up in a rueful smirk. As I stared back at him now, I felt as though I was choking… again.

"Remember, Rory," Sid ordered, for that was who stood before me now, his hand still softly caressing my face. His lips still close enough to kiss, even though I wanted to gag. "Your mind never lets go. Search for what you've forgotten."

His hair became such a bright blond that I was temporarily blinded, and then–

I was falling off my bed.

The jolt knocked the air from my lungs and had my knee throbbing. Gratefully, I sucked in the London air, my eyes roving greedily over the bare surroundings of my room. No pictures on the walls, plain white sheets on the bed, a sparse collection of books on the nightstand. It was all oddly comforting. As I waited for my breathing to regulate, I focused on the dream. This was the fourth one this week featuring Sid, the annoyingly blond twin who apparently couldn't be harmed in any way. The twins who had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth… after murdering the kindly bookstore clerk and his quiet employee. We'd been searching for them for weeks and the most boring New Year's ever hadn't exactly taken my mind off our problems.

Forcing myself off the floor, I stumbled my way to the kitchen, struggling to keep quiet so as to not wake Stephen or Callum. This flat was still fairly new and not really big enough for three people, even though there were three bedrooms.

Grabbing a water from the fridge, my eyes strayed to the clock on the microwave. Five in the morning. No wonder it was so quiet. Desperately, I wished there was someone I could talk to at this odd hour. Waking Stephen was out – the dream centered on him just felt too real, and Callum would take my head off. I could always text Boo or Jazza, but I had a feeling neither of them would take kindly to a five am wake up call.

And that left me alone with my thoughts.

 _Remember, Rory._

Sid's words reverberated through my head, insistent. That was what he always said in the dreams, something about remembering. Once there had been snow. _You've walked through this before, haven't you?_ But I hadn't walked through snow that deep before. I was from sunny Louisiana. _Do you remember the grass feeling this comfortable,_ he'd asked once as we'd reclined in a park… a park that did feel oddly familiar.

They were a puzzle; a puzzle I hadn't told a single person about. I still wasn't sure why I was having them. Maybe fear. I was terrified of him. And of his sister. And their band of brain-washed followers, if they were even still alive. Or maybe it was simply because the twins were the focus of my entire day. Stephen, Callum, and Boo at least had day jobs and Freddie would soon have school to distract her, but reading up on the twins was my full time job. We'd brought all the books from their house and I'd been relentlessly reading through bit by boring bit. It made sense that I was slightly obsessed with them, but if that was the reason, why was Sadie never in the dreams? Why only Sid?

My phone buzzed as I walked back into my room, one quick jerk on my nightstand, and I couldn't help smiling down at the text.

 _U up?_

It seemed Jerome and I both had trouble sleeping lately.

"This is your fault," he said, answering the phone on the first ring. "I was sleeping fine before you came into my life."

"Good morning to you too, Idiot."

"You think your wardens will let you out today? Just for an hour or so?"

His voice was so warm and familiar, it eased the last remnants of the dream from my head. "They're keeping me here for a reason, you know."

"Yes, of course. You're still a missing person. But you have different hair now and this early, no one will recognize you. You can't tell me you haven't been dying for a coffee."

Coffee was the magic word. It seemed people in England lived on tea. It was what they drank morning, noon, and night, and a Rory with no coffee is an unproductive Rory. My mouth was watering at the thought of its rich goodness.

"You knew you'd have me with coffee, huh?"

Jerome chuckled into the phone, bringing memories of holding hands in class and kisses in the library. "How about that shop on the corner? I'll buy."

"Meet you in twenty."

Twenty minutes was just enough time for a quick shower before I was sneaking through the living room with my hair still wet, scrawling a quick note on the pad by the phone. Technically, I'd made promises not to leave this flat without permission, but I was going crazy. Literally.

The coffee shop had clearly just opened and Jerome was waiting at one of the outdoor tables with two cups of dark wake-up juice.

"Why don't we do this every morning," Jerome inquired as I joined him at the table, which was thankfully out of view of the CCTV cameras.

"Because Stephen would handcuff me to the bed if we tried."

"That's a little intense." I nodded as I sipped my coffee. "Jazza says hi, but the way."

"She still at her parents," I inquired, fondly missing my trusty roommate.

"Yeah. Reading, lounging with the dogs. And I think she's terrified for you."

This brought on a long sigh. I hated that my friends were so scared. More, I hated that my parents probably felt even worse. "Tell her not to be. I'm fine. Really. Mostly just bored. Running away really isn't as fun as I thought it would be."

Jerome's face lit up with one of his easy smiles. His curls had grown down past his ears now that school was on break and it made him look friendly and dependable. "Well, I know we're not big on endearments, but… I miss you."

"I miss you too," I admitted, my hand briefly resting on his. His eyes held mine, lighting up in a way that used to signal the beginning of a kiss. Stephen's lips, the only ones I actually wanted to be kissing now, flashed through my head. "And Jazza."

"Yes, right," he mumbled, breaking the moment. His face looked slightly heartbroken. "So, any luck on finding Evil One and Evil Two?"

"Not yet. I'm sort of hoping they decided to move to the Cayman Islands for the rest of forever. Maybe start up a juice bar."

"Or they could be living it up in a mansion with their pet cats. Don't evil overlords always have cats?"

I nodded and smiled into my coffee. Making light of the situation was exactly what I needed. I hadn't missed the fact that Jerome's knee was brushing mine, or that he'd been leaning in closer as the conversation had gone on. The break-up had been before I'd told him the truth, but now that he knew everything, he seemed under the impression that things could go back to the way they were before. But there was one significant reason that could never happen.

And that reason was now standing just behind my chair.

"Good coffee," Stephen inquired, his voice holding a quiet fury.

Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I was met with his stern face and my heart froze in my chest as it did every time I saw him now. My eyes lingered on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. He was alive and whatever came next I could handle.

"You should join us," I offered casually, but he didn't sit. Instead, he seemed to be focusing on the close proximity of my hand to Jerome's.

"Actually, I think we should be getting back," Stephen instructed, his eyes returning to my face. I could see the worry in them now.

"Why don't I come with you," Jerome insisted, standing from his chair. "I could help with the books and maybe–"

"No. You already know more than you should. Rory, we should go."

Jerome looked ready to argue, his hand extended to grab my arm, but I moved deftly to Stephen's side. "It's okay, Jer. I'll call you later, okay?"

As his eyes switched from Stephen's face to mine, I could see the unhappiness there, but he simply nodded. "Don't let him handcuff you to the bed."

I had a quip ready, but Stephen was already pulling me along after him, his grip firm on my arm. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I'd be back before you woke up."

"And what if someone recognized you," he yelled once we were safely in our building, racing up to our second floor flat. He was pulling me along so fast now that I nearly tripped on the stairs.

"We were careful, and I was only going to be gone for a few minutes. I've left the house with you and Callum. What's the difference?"

"The difference is that Callum and I can protect you. He can't."

Once in the living room, he slammed the door behind us, his hands shaking. It had been a long time since I'd seen Stephen this mad. I noticed now that he was still in his pajamas, his hair an adorable mess on his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just had a bad dream and wanted to talk to someone. He was awake anyway. We really were careful."

His eyes drifted to the floor now, his lips set in a firm line. "Why didn't you just wake me up? I was right down the hall."

"It was five in the morning. No one should be forced to wake up at five in the morning."

"I'm serious. You can wake me up if you need me."

But I didn't feel right waking him up for a bad dream. Since I'd brought him back, things had been awkward. He'd made it clear that what had happened in his father's flat would not be happening again and as happy as I was to have him back, it still hurt. Every day… every time I saw another side of him that I hadn't noticed before, I fell a little more in love with him. But knowing that he didn't want to be with me – or that he thought he couldn't, or whatever – it was like a fresh wound every single day. And I'd had enough wounds to last me a lifetime.

"I won't do it again. I promise." With that, I strode to the kitchen in search of breakfast, while Stephen put the kettle on for tea.

Unlike my dream last night, Stephen did not take my hand or softly caress my cheek. Instead, his every move seemed coordinated with the sole purpose of not touching me. Even when we both reached for the sugar at the same time, he was quick to yank his hand back, not meeting my eyes.

"Stephen," Callum called, rushing into the kitchen shirtless with his phone in his hand. That was a sight that woke you up! "We got to go. Thorpe just called, says Charlotte was spotted at a bank in West End."

"A bank," Stephen inquired, already moving towards his room.

"She just emptied all of Jane's bank accounts. I'm guessing she's the new errand girl for the Siamese freaks. Since they just killed all their old ones."

"I'm coming too," I shouted, tossing my still full plate of eggs in the sink.

Stephen whirled to face me. "Absolutely not!"

"Look, I'm sorry about this morning, but this is Charlotte. I need to be there. I need to try to convince her that Sid and Sadie are not the people to run around with."

"This morning," Callum asked, a smirk pulling up his lips. "The sun's hardly up and you've already done something nefarious? Isn't that a record?"

"Shut it, Callum," Stephen ordered, his eyes still boring into mine. "You're not coming, Rory. It isn't safe. Someone could recognize you and I still don't trust that Sid and Sadie wouldn't find you a valuable asset."

He rushed into his room before I could respond, but I followed him, determined now. I was just in time to see his shirt hit the floor. "If they wanted me, why didn't they take me with them before? It's not like we could have stopped them."

"I don't know. They'd just come back to life. They probably had other emergencies to take care of. You saw how fascinated they were with you. Until I know their plans, I don't want you out there where they could get to you."

He threw his uniform on the bed, shooting me a pointed look as his hands reached the hem of his pajama bottoms. With a sigh, I turned to face the wall, but didn't leave. "Why?"

"Why what," he inquired, but I could hear the wariness in his voice. He already knew what I was asking.

"Why are you so determined to protect me? Jane is dead; the Ripper isn't still trying to off me. You have more important things to worry about than my protection, and I could help. But instead you seem determined to keep me locked up here and uninvolved in the investigation. Why? Why is it so important for you to keep me safe?"

Silence. It was obvious my question had thrown him. The intense urge to turn and see the look on his face nearly overtook me, but I could still hear him pulling on his clothes. So I waited.

"Rory... You are involved in the investigation. You've been going through their books for weeks now. That helps."

"You didn't answer the question."

I waited some more while the sound of his police uniform sliding onto his body filled the air and he tied up his boots. Part of me knew I should take back the question; that I might not like the answer, but I just had to know. I just had to hear him say it.

"I care about you, Rory," he responded finally, and I couldn't hold back anymore. I whirled to face him… but the look on his face was not the one I was hoping for. It wasn't shy or blushing, unsure of how his words would be received. It was stern and serious, as though he were explaining this to a child.

"You are my responsibility," he continued. "You're too young to be a member of the squad and right now you are under my protection. I can't risk anything happening to you."

"Stephen," Callum called from down the hall. "We got to go. Boo's meeting us there."

With a nod, Stephen rushed past me towards the door, but just as he reached my shoulder, he stopped. "Rory… I do care about you."

He was out of the room, grabbing his keys and strolling out the front door when I finally got the words past my tight throat.

"But I _love_ you."

~SoL~

The book struck the wall with a resounding thud, echoing my frustration. It was only eleven in the morning and it was already obvious that reading through these books were pointless. Sid and Sadie had collected various works from all over the world. Most all had been translated into English, but I might as well have been reading Sanskrit for all the sense it made. Most contained theories about the dead or dark rituals to reanimate a corpse. A lot of it was rubbish.

Grabbing another book off the stack by the couch, I skimmed through the first few pages, noting the same myths I'd read in countless others. On page ninety-seven I came across a picture of a painting. I'd already seen similar paintings in three of the other books, all by the same artist. Edward Kennish. Of course, I'd researched him, as I had nothing better to do than beat a dead horse repeatedly for hours at a time. Edward Kennish lived from 1609 to 1654. He constantly spoke of communing with the spirits of the dead and was excommunicated from the church before finally being murdered by his Catholic brother, who accused him of practicing witchcraft.

His history was interesting, but the paintings were terrible. It was no wonder he never became one of the famous artists of his time. Each one consisted of various lines and brushstrokes that created absolutely nothing. No matter how long I stared at it, I could not conceive what the picture was supposed to be. The caption claimed it to be a painting of a spirit, though Edward Kennish himself had named it _The Artifact._

I was just about to toss this book across the room as well when I was plunged into darkness.

Everything had clicked off, not just the lights. The coffee pot, the microwave, even the heat was no longer blowing faithfully out of the vents.

"Great. Like I know where a breaker box is in an English flat."

Thorpe had gotten us this place, claiming that Sid and Sadie most likely knew the location of Stephen and Callum's old flat, since Jane and her cronies had known. This building had only two apartments and Thorpe had rented them both, with the plan to turn the downstairs into a practical office space. My best bet for the breaker box would probably be in the master bedroom, which was Stephen's. Although it was possible that English flats didn't have breaker boxes and I'd be wondering around in the cold dark for the rest of the day.

I was just getting off the couch when I heard the drip.

Most likely the sink was leaking and I was only just now noticing it because everything had gotten so quiet, but it didn't sound like it was coming from the kitchen. Grabbing my phone, I clicked on the flashlight app and made my way cautiously into the hall. The dripping grew louder, and then I saw it.

I could make out the dark outline of a puddle on the hardwood floors. It had rained last night, so I was guessing this was water leaking down from the attic. Apparently our new place was prone to power cuts and a leaking roof.

But as I moved closer, I realized that the puddle in the floor was too viscous to be water.

And it was red.

My heart was suddenly trying to break free of my chest and I was frozen. Completely frozen. It couldn't be blood. Why would our ceiling be leaking blood?! No, it was not blood. There was a solid explanation for this, I was sure of it.

Part of me wanted to run from the room screaming and immediately call Stephen's phone. But wouldn't it just look stupid when he climbed up in the attic and found that it was merely a can of paint that had tipped over. I had just been arguing why I needed to be a more productive member of the team and calling for help every time some tiny little thing happened was not proving my point.

My face set with determination, I maneuvered carefully around the growing puddle to where the attic door was in the ceiling, just before Stephen's room at the end of the hall. The pull rope was too short for me to reach and I had to jump up and down several times before I finally managed to snag it. Yanking the door down was another matter, as a set of heavy wooden steps was attached to it, but once I finally had it open, the stench hit me like a brick.

It was foul and rotten, nothing at all like old paint, and it was pitch dark at the top of the stairs.

Slowly, as though my feet were made of lead, I ascended the stairs, shining the light of my phone across the dark room. There was probably a switch or something. It was clearly a large space meant for storing all sorts of various crap, but my hands were shaking too much for me to search for the light.

Creeping along inch by inch, my phone illuminating the floor, I finally saw a large lump lying just where I thought the drip was coming from. It seemed formless, with a mess of string tangled at one end. The sight was a confusion until I was right over it…

…and saw that under the string, was a face. A human face… on a human body.

There was so much blood streaking the body that at first I didn't notice that the hair was naturally red. My knees were shaking so bad I wasn't sure how I was still standing and the part of my brain that wasn't having a panic attack noted that Stephen, Callum, and Boo probably wouldn't have any luck locating Charlotte.

Because she was lying at my feet.

 **A/N:** Just wanted to point out that the SoL stands for Shades of London (in case that wasn't incredibly obvious.) I am extremely computer illiterate and can never seem to properly put in my page breaks.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Deep Personal Issues

"Rory, please talk to me," Boo begged from where she sat beside me on the floor by the sofa.

My lips were currently clenched, trapping the scream that was trying to work its way out of my throat. I'd seen Jane murdered, seen her throat ripped out, but I'd barely known Jane. Charlotte was someone I'd went to school with, someone I'd seen every morning at breakfast, who I'd had a million conversations about with Jazza. And she was dead. Gone. For good.

I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that the mutilated body in the attic was hers.

"Rory," Boo said again, her hand rubbing soothing circles into my back. I could hear the footsteps in the attic above our heads where Stephen, Callum, and Thorpe were analyzing the… scene.

I'd almost passed out up there, staring at the blood. It had taken several minutes for me to stumble down the stairs and catch my breath and several more minutes before I could steady my voice and call Stephen. After that, I hadn't moved from this spot.

"How did it happen," Stephen questioned as he came back down the attic stairs with Callum and Thorpe on his heels. His voice was steady but one look at his face and I could tell he was as shaken as me. Although where I was in a state of shock, he was angry. "How did they get the body up into the attic without any of us seeing? We were home last night and Rory is here all day."

At this last statement, his eyes found mine. They were horrified. I knew the same thought that crossed my mind was in his – that Sid and Sadie could have brought Charlotte's body up to the attic while I was here alone. Which meant they'd probably known where I was all along.

"Get up," Stephen ordered me, his hand already on my arm as he hauled me to his side. I leaned into him, his strong arm around my shoulders all that was holding me up. Usually, when he puts his arm around me – which doesn't happen often – he's hesitant. But now he was holding me to him with almost bruising force.

"You need shoes," Stephen noted. "Where are your shoes?"

"Whoa, wait a moment," Boo interrupted. "What are you doing? We need to focus on getting the body out of here, yeah? The police can't tie Charlotte's body to this place. There'll be too many questions we can't answer."

"And we will. But first I want to get Rory somewhere safe."

"Stephen," Thorpe began, but Stephen was already pulling me towards my room.

"They got into this place without any of us noticing," Stephen yelled, causing everyone to jump. "She's here most of the day alone. They could do anything to her. We have to move her."

"And we will," Thorpe placated, his voice calm. "But first we have to deal with Charlotte. And I want to understand why they killed her and why they left her body for us to find."

"I think it was a scare tactic," Callum threw in, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "You said the power went out just before you found her, right?"

I nodded.

"It's back up now, which means it probably wasn't an accident. I think they left her there for you to find, Rory. I think they want you to know that they can get to us any time they want."

If possible, Stephen's arm tightened even more around my shoulders, squishing me to his side.

"All the more reason to get her out of here," Stephen decided, pulling us into my room where he began to frantically look for my shoes without letting me go.

"What will you tell her family," I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. My lips were quivering and I focused on getting them to still.

Stephen froze, tilting my face up and running his thumb over my lower lip. Pulling me to his chest, I felt him bury his face into the hair at the top of my head. "We'll come up with something. Something that keeps her in a good light. It won't help her parents to know she'd joined a cult."

"Where are you going to take me?"

He was quiet for a moment. I could feel his heart beating in his chest and it calmed me until the last of the panic left my body, leaving me exhausted.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. If they found us here…"

"Then why not just stay here."

"Rory–"

"No, wait," I continued. "If they wanted to hurt me, they could have. They could have come while you were at work and taken me, but they didn't. It's like Callum said; I think they just wanted to scare me. And there's a good chance they'll find me wherever you take me. We should focus on making this place more secure."

I pulled back to see his face, aware that he was giving this some serious thought.

"Boo's right," I went on. "Charlotte should be the priority right now. We have to move her."

"That will be hard to do in the middle of the day."

Leaning back into him, I tried not to shudder at the thought of leaving her body here for the rest of the day. It was already starting to smell and the blood was still dripping down through the ceiling.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," he stated, and as much as I wouldn't mind being surrounded by my friends just now, I'd had enough of being defenseless.

"You can't be with me every second. You, Callum, and Boo all have day jobs and even if you could be with me every second, we've tried this before. The Ripper got around it, remember? And we both almost died." His arms tightened around me and he took a deep breath like he was ready to argue, but I cut him off. "I'm tired of feeling helpless all the time. Of feeling like I always need someone to come save me."

"I believe you've saved my life just as much as I've saved yours."

"I want you to teach me how to fight."

This time, I kept my face buried in his sweater. He was always so determined to keep me safe and out of the action; I didn't know how he'd react to this. But I couldn't go on feeling like the weak link. I wanted to be able to defend myself… even if all forms of self-defense would be pointless against Sid and Sadie.

"Okay. I'll teach you."

"Stephen," Thorpe called from the doorway. "We've come to a decision about the body. What did you decide?"

With a long sigh, Stephen pulled away from me and we joined the others in the living room. "We're staying here… for now. I want a new security system. The best you can get us."

"Done."

"And the body? You said you'd come to a decision?"

"Boo and I will take care of it," Callum explained from the hallway where he was busy lying towels down to soak up the blood. "We're getting a plain, black sedan. Something that most people will overlook. There's a set of empty apartments a couple streets over where they're renovating. Thought we'd leave her there."

"And her family," I asked. "When will you tell them?"

"If no one has reported the body by this afternoon, we'll call it in tonight. So… probably tomorrow morning."

I nodded. There was really nothing left to say for the moment, and I was thankful that Boo and Callum would be dealing with Charlotte. It wasn't like I had warm and fuzzy feelings about her, but I just couldn't imagine being the one to move her body.

"Go get your shoes," Stephen insisted, much calmer now.

"But I thought you said–"

"I'm not moving you to another apartment," Stephen interrupted, grabbing my jacket from the kitchen table. "But I think it would be a good idea to get you out of here for a little bit. Maybe get you something to eat."

I honestly couldn't think of eating right now, but I was desperate to escape the crime scene. Dashing to retrieve my shoes, I cast one last glance at the growing red spot on the floor, fighting my gag reflex the whole way.

~SoL~

"I still don't know why we aren't putting cash on this game," Callum pondered, taking down another one of my knights in a brilliant chess move.

"Because I suck at chess and I'm really low on funds."

"What about strip chess. There has to be something to make this more entertaining."

I heaved a sigh, procrastinating my next move. We were spread out on the floor in Callum's insanely messy room while Stephen and Thorpe dealt with the Charlotte situation. As planned, Stephen had "found" the body at exactly 6:15pm and the forensics were still "identifying" the body. I tried not to think about the mass of wounds that made this difficult.

"We could talk instead. Finish that Boo conversation we started," I suggested, making yet another wrong move.

"Check," Callum called out. "And that conversation was finished."

"It is not! I know you like her."

"Rory, just leave it."

"Come on, you like her."

Rolling his eyes, Callum threw himself back on the floor, mimicking my positon. "Haven't you ever heard what they say about office romances? They don't last and they make everything weird. I'd rather not complicate things."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle says. And now he's been in love with the same girl since high school and never made a move. He's alone. All alone. That will be you in twenty years."

"You don't know that."

"I know a lot of things. I'm very wise."

Callum chortled, flicking over my few remaining chess pieces.

"Hey," I yelled with mock indignation. "I haven't made my move yet!"

"You're forfeiting, and I'm officially tired of chess." Suddenly, Callum's lips turned up in an evil smirk as he eyed me. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth would not be good. "While we're delving into deep personal issues, why aren't you jumping Stephen's bones?"

I felt my cheeks flame and immediately grabbed a pillow from the bed and lobbed it at his face… which he caught in mid-air. "That is none of your business!"

"And my love life is your business?"

"I am only looking out for your happiness. You and Boo would be great together."

Callum's phone rang and he grabbed it as he deftly threw the pillow back at my head. My reflexes were nowhere near as fast and I was rewarded with a mouthful of cotton.

"Stephen," he answered and I was instantly on alert. I watched as Callum's face darkened and his eyes darted over to me. "No, no, we'll go… Yes, I'll keep her safe. I won't let her out of my sight."

"What happened," I blurted out as soon as he was off the phone.

"There's a disturbance close to the Royal Gunpowder Pub where that bartender was killed."

"Yeah, the ghost with the hammer."

"Stephen thinks it sounds ghost related. He wants us to check it out."

Jumping up instantly, I rushed towards my room to change. "He's actually letting me out of the house?"

"Temporarily! And you have to keep your head down and not say a word. Not a word, Rory!"

It turned out the disturbance was in a set of apartments just around the corner from the pub. Callum had explained on the Tube ride that a woman claimed she had been pushed down the stairs, but had seen no one and her sister, who was still locking the apartment door at the time, claimed that there was no one there and that she had to have tripped and fallen. But being that it was in the same general area as the crack from Hawthorne, it was worth looking into.

"What are you doing here," Callum inquired as we approached the apartment's brick face.

Standing by the door was Freddie, her make-up free face looking young and exuberant. "Waiting for you. Stephen called and said this would be a good experience for me. Are we going up," she asked, practically bouncing on her feet and giving me a small wave.

My answering smile needed a little work, but I was busy fighting down the jealousy that Stephen had called her. After hearing her go on about her ex-girlfriend, it was clear he wasn't her type, but they just had so much to talk about. She knew so much about the ghost stuff – stuff I was still busily trying to cram into my brain – and he always became so animated when they spoke.

"Let's get this over with," Callum ground out, and I was a little satisfied to hear that he wasn't particularly warmed up to her either.

Once inside, the staircase was dark, barely illuminated by the small recessed lighting. We could hear the TV blaring from one of the lower apartments, followed by raucous laughter. Somewhere on one of the upper floors someone was arguing, their angry voices carrying down to us and the carpet had some ugly brown stains that smelt of pee. Overall, not the place I would pick to live.

"Just keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual," Callum instructed, climbing the stairs.

"Like someone you can see through," I chuckled.

"Or someone about to shove you down the stairs."

The second floor was slightly better lit than the first, and Callum pointed out the woman's apartment. At first, I could see no one, but then, we heard the whimpering… and saw the door rattle.

"I think someone's coming out," Freddie noted, moving back towards the stairs. "Stephen said no one would be home."

Callum moved closer, placing himself just in front of me. "I don't think it's anyone living," he explained.

The door looked like it was bowing outward, trying to escape its hinges and then a knee poked through the wood, followed by an entire leg. The whimpering was louder now as the body came into focus, pushing through the door inch by inch. It was a short man, dressed in stained white pajamas with his hair in wild disarray on his head. Once all the way through, he slumped against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hello," I chirped up, and Callum shot me a look.

"What part of 'not a word' are you having trouble grasping," he hissed, but the man had already heard me, his beady eyes focusing right on my face.

"Leave," he shrieked, so piercingly that it physically hurt our ears. "Leave!"

"Look, Mate, we're here to help. Can you tell us who you are," Callum asked, taking a cautious step closer, but the man shrieked again and Callum stumbled back into me. "I don't think he wants us here."

"Do you think he's dangerous," Freddie inquired, her eyes wide, but otherwise unshaken.

"He pushed someone down the stairs. What do you think?"

"I think that she's still alive. Maybe it was an accident. He might not have meant to hurt her."

But I agreed with Callum. The man didn't look stable. Most likely one of the lingering Bedlam patients.

"Stay back," the ghost yelled. "I won't let you put me in anymore chains. No more! No more!"

He was practically sobbing now and I noticed the rough wounds on his wrists, wounds that appeared to have been made by pulling at his handcuffs. Had this man been chained to a wall when he was alive?

"Rory…," Callum began, and I nodded. This had to be done and Stephen and Boo had the only other two termini we owned.

Moving carefully, hoping not to startle him, I stepped around Callum and crossed over to the mental patient. But before I reached him, he let out a terrible cry and rushed at me. It was like being struck by a train. I toppled over, my head striking the floor, and his hands still on me, stuck to me. The blinding light was there, but now there was pain – intense, soul-crushing pain – darting through my entire body, nearly rendering me unconscious. Once the man was gone, it took me a moment to realize that the lingering scream had been my own.

"Rory, Rory," Callum called, his hand tentative on my shoulder. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Opening my eyes, the world was blurry and unfocused, intensifying the pain in my head. I could just make out Callum's head hovering in my field of vision.

"We should get her out of here. I think someone heard that," Freddie said, and sure enough, I heard the click of a door opening down the hall.

"What's going on out here," a woman, with a very thick accent, yelled.

"I'm fine," I managed to squeak out, nervous of how it might look to see me laid out on the floor with muscular Callum lingering over me. "I just… ran into the wall."

"Her voice sounds funny," the lady noted. "What happened to her?"

"Like she said," Freddie began. "She ran into the wall. It was my fault really, I scared her. Thought it would be funny. I didn't mean for her to get hurt."

Freddie's voice was shaking, but it was a well delivered line. Reaching out for Callum's hand, I let him haul me to my feet, though the world wobbled beneath me. Realizing the lady was still staring at me, I did what I do best… I started babbling.

"It's like one of those fun houses I used to go in with my friends when I was little," I started, thankful that Callum's strong arm was wrapped around my waist, keeping me upright. "Where you have to walk through the tunnel that's spinning and try not to fall down. My friend, Mindy, fell down in one once and Allen didn't see her and he stepped on her. Then he fell and it was like this big pile up in the fun house. Mindy ended up with a broken arm and the fun house was shut down and we were all disappointed."

"Um… how hard did she hit her head," the woman inquired, which was opposite to the response I was hoping for.

"Oh, she's fine," Callum cut in. "She always talks like this. Just doesn't know when to shut up."

This last part was directed right at my face and I gave him a wobbly smile.

"We were just here visiting a friend," Callum continued. "But I think I better get her home instead."

Thankfully, the woman let us leave without any more questions and Callum half-carried me down the stairs and out into the frigid evening. For once, I didn't mind the cold; it helped clear the shakiness from my head.

"That was incredible," Freddie chirped, a broad smile on her face.

"Incredible?! Rory nearly passed out," Callum yelled.

"But the ghost. It's gone, right? That's incredible! You just touch them and their gone. I mean, don't get me wrong, some ghosts are great and I don't want them to go away, but that was just… that was…"

"Tiring," I finished for her. "I think I'd like a bed now."

Callum nodded, his hand pushing the hair back from my face while he examined me… and then he froze, his eyes widening.

"Rory," he whispered. "You nose."

Reaching up, I felt the small trickle of blood running out. It wasn't much, it was gone with one swipe, but… I'd never bled after offing a ghost. Ever.

"We're taking you home," he ordered. "Now. Can you walk?"

In response to that, I let go of him, only to begin to slump towards the ground. His strong arms caught me, hauling me back up and depositing me on a bench by the building.

"Cab it is then."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Sticks and Stones

The fall to the ground was jarring, pushing the breath momentarily out of my lungs. Sadly, it wasn't the most graceful fall ever.

"Are you alright," Stephen inquired above me, his hand snaking under my elbow and lifting me up. "Rory?"

"Yes, yes. For the hundredth time, I'm fine."

Stephen had been serious when he'd promised to train me and now, here we were, in the downstairs flat that was supposed to be converted into office space. The living room still had no furniture, so it was the perfect place to practice. Though, at the moment, all I'd learned so far was how uncomfortable the carpet was.

"You have to keep your hands up. Always protect your face and stomach."

I nodded, bringing my hands up and positioning my feet as he'd shown me, but he shook his head. "Rory, I think we should take a break."

This was what I'd had to put up with for the last two days, since I'd dealt with that ghost. Everyone was treating me like I was glass. Dr. Marigold had been sent over to give me a physical, and she'd concluded that I was healthy, just exhausted. I could still remember the frantic Stephen and Boo that had burst into the apartment after receiving Callum's phone call.

"You shouldn't use your power anymore," Stephen had insisted. "It's getting worse every time and we have other termini now."

I'd agreed on this front, mostly because I didn't want to experience that again, but I'd had enough of everyone tip-toeing around me.

"I'm fine," I implored Stephen now. "I want to go again."

"Rory, just take a break. Catch your breath."

"My breath is fine. Show me how you threw that punch. That's what I should be learning. The punching."

A small smile turned up the corners of Stephen's lips as he watched me bouncing on the balls of my feet. "The first thing you learn in self-defense is how to deflect an attack. Once you can properly block my advances, then we'll move onto the punching. Have you ever punched anyone before?"

"Oh yeah, I used to get into brawls all the time. Iron fist. That's what they called me."

Stephen rolled his eyes at my sarcasm, but returned to his fighting stance, which I tried to mimic. I must have been doing a poor job from the look on his face. "Feet out a little more. You don't want to limit your range of movement."

"Like this," I asked.

"Not that wide."

I was watching my feet, trying to gage just where to put them on the worn carpet when I felt his hand on my thigh, urging my leg farther over.

"Right there," he explained, his voice husky in my ear. "And turn your hips a little more."

His hands found my hips, causing my breath to lodge in my throat and a rosy blush to make its way down my cheeks. He turned me, ever so slightly, his fingers never leaving my body as he moved up to my arms, positioning them.

"Hold it just like that. You want to stand in a way that protects all your vital organs in an attack." He was still leaning down, speaking into my ear and his nose just grazed my temple. I was seeing stars now from the not breathing, but I couldn't seem to remember how to exhale.

Looking up, our faces were only a couple inches apart with the way he was leaning down and I could feel his breath fan over my cheek. For a moment, we were both frozen, his eyes darkening… and then he jumped back as if I had shoved him.

"Um… yeah, just like that," he continued, moving back around to face me.

Now I could breathe again, but the ache of disappointment tore through me like a fist to the gut. It didn't help that he made such a sexy sight, with his hair rumpled and the light gleam of sweat on his muscles. I may have allowed my mind to wonder a little too much because I was in no way ready when he came at me again, his fist swinging at my head. I blocked him, just the way he'd shown me, but he turned, coming at me again. This time, I swung out at him, but he caught my arm, swinging me around until my back was flush with his chest. He still held my arm across my body, pinning me to him.

"I thought I said you were supposed to be blocking," he inquired, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

"I… I saw a shot."

I could feel the warmth radiating off him as his chest rose and fell behind me. If I were trapped like this forever, I would be happy. But with a sudden, startled laugh, he let me go, spinning me around to face him again.

"Alright then. We'll try it your way. You come at me."

I wanted to protest. He was right, I never had thrown a punch before. But at that moment, I had an intense desire to wipe that slightly smug look off his face. Before he was fully in position, I charged. Whatever police training he'd had was clearly working in his favor. He blocked my attack at once and when I kicked out at his side, he caught my foot and tossed me on my back.

Down on the floor – again.

"Are you ready to learn how to block now," he inquired, grinning down at me as I attempted a grimace.

"Actually, I think I'm ready for that break now."

With one of his rare Stephen smiles, he extended his hand, helping me up off the floor and leading me to the wall where our water bottles were waiting.

"That really wasn't bad," he insisted as I slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He joined me, sitting so close that we were almost touching.

"Stephen Dene! Is that a lie I hear on your tongue?"

"Seriously. It was only your first training session. You just need the practice."

"Is this the part where you tell me that you were just as bad when you were trained," I hoped, leaning my throbbing head back against the wall. I noticed, sadly, that while I was practically panting for breath, he was breathing normally.

"I would, but you just implied that you don't appreciate it when I lie."

With a furious sigh, I jabbed him in the gut, and was rewarded with a small laugh.

"How are you doing," Stephen started, but at my annoyed face, he back-peddled. "I don't mean about the other night with the ghost. I meant with everything else. Charlotte, your parents… our situation."

I know he meant the Sid and Sadie situation, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe we were talking about something more personal. Like the fact that I was in love with him and he wanted to be nothing other than colleagues.

"I'm dealing."

The parent situation, though less shocking, had been exceedingly difficult. In the end, I'd written a letter stating that I couldn't come back to them, but that they should move on with their lives and I would explain everything one day – which was a lie – and that I loved them so much. It had been even more difficult to hear that they hadn't immediately gotten on a plane to Louisiana after reading it, but had urged the police to search harder, insisting they weren't leaving without me.

"It won't… It won't be like this forever," Stephen assured me, his hand moving towards mine, but stopping just short of taking it. "I'll make sure you can see your family again. I promise. Even if you officially join."

"If?!"

"You know what I mean, Rory. You still might wise up and change your mind. But if you don't, and I certainly don't expect you to, I'll make sure you can see them again. That you have a chance to explain. You need that."

His hand was still a breath away from mine and I decided I was tired of waiting for him to make a move. I took his hand, weaving my fingers through his and holding on as my love for him grew infinitely more.

"Thank you," I whispered, worried that if I spoke any louder, my voice would tremble.

His hand was still in mine and he wasn't letting go, so I took another chance and rested my head on his shoulder, letting just the fact that he was there beside me comfort me. He stiffened slightly, but then relaxed, his head resting on mine and for the moment, I was happy.

"Stephen, Rory," a voice called, and Thorpe came trudging into the empty apartment. Stephen instantly dropped my hand and stood, the worry lines creasing his face. "We finally have the coroner's report back for Charlotte."

Happy feelings gone. My stomach was rolling.

"What took so long," Stephen inquired, accepting the papers Thorpe handed him.

"It seems they've had quite the body count these last few days. Took them a while to get to Charlotte. Would you like to hear the names of the dead that have been flooding in?"

Stephen's face hardened and I could tell he was already expecting this. "I'm guessing every person that could have been linked to Jane."

"Exactly. Every person except this Jack fellow."

"Jack is still out there," I gasped, on my feet now too. I'd had several encounters with Jack, none of them pleasant.

"Supposedly," Thorpe continued. "Though with this track record, I say it is very likely that he is dead."

It was evil and wrong, but part of me was slightly relieved by this possibility.

"Killing their accomplices seems to fit the mold for them, but we still have no idea what they're up to now," Stephen began, staring at the papers before him. "They obviously care nothing for defeating death, as Jane did. At least not for anyone but themselves."

"Maybe they've already got what they wanted then," I added hopefully. "They're immortal and un-killable, so maybe now they'll just live the rest of their long lives peacefully."

Stephen gave a bitter chuckle.

"It could happen," I argued. "We had this guy once back home. He started this string of robberies, right, and he–"

"Rory, as fun as your 'back home' stories are," Thorpe cut in, "this isn't exactly the time. I have to get back."

"You know Rory's 'back home' stories," Stephen inquired.

"Yes. Rory and I grew quite close while you were… gone. And by that I mean I grew quite close to killing her." But despite his words, his lips turned up in a fond smile. "I brought this too."

Reaching into the briefcase he carried at this side, he produced an English driver's license with my picture and a fake name and age.

"Francine?! You seriously named me Francine," I protested, not that I hated the name Francine. I just really didn't feel like a Francine.

"It is a safe, common name that will not draw attention. But, in anticipation of this rant, I also brought these to cheer you up."

"These" ended up being a stack of papers for me to fill out, and after closer inspection, I felt my smile growing wider.

"Are these forms to join the squad," I asked, my voice shaking with glee.

"If you still want that after everything that's happened."

"I… yes, of course I do!" I was so happy, in fact, that I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, unsure if Thorpe would welcome the hug I wanted to give him. And then, I saw the look on Stephen's face.

Every happy feeling was gone in a second.

"You don't want me to join," I stated.

"It's not… It's complicated," Stephen explained, his eyes not meeting mine. He might not show a lot of emotion, but I'd learned to read that face. The lips tighter than usual, the eyes focused on the wall. He was upset, but trying hard not to say the wrong thing.

"Stephen," Thorpe cut in. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but Rory has proven herself time and time again. She'll still need to be trained, of course, and she's welcome to quit any time she feels she needs to, but… I think she's ready for this. And it's what she wants."

"It's fine," he snapped, making me jump.

And he left, just like that; out of the apartment and up the stairs. I could feel my heart throbbing in my chest, threatening to give out entirely. By the time I registered the wetness on my cheeks, the tears were already rolling off my chin.

"He just worries about you," Thorpe assured me, placing a stiff hand on my shoulder. "After Newman, when you were hurt, he worried about you constantly. Worried that you would go crazy in Bristol on your own or that something dangerous would happen and you'd try to deal with it alone. He likes to be in control and with you he's never in control. I think it scares him."

But in my head, I thought about his actions lately. How he can barely touch me. The way he explained that continuing what we'd started that night in his dad's flat would be unwise. I couldn't squish the fear that the real reason he didn't want me to join was because he didn't want us to work that closely when I still loved him like I did. That it would be uncomfortable and odd.

I knew how much he cared about me, how much he worried, and the rational part of my brain agreed with Thorpe. But the more treacherous part reminded me that Stephen didn't want me. Not as a girlfriend and not as a co-worker.

"He'll come around," Thorpe insisted. I just nodded in response.

~SoL~

The clock on the wall felt as though it were running insanely slow, its ticking driving me closer and closer to madness. Sitting on the living room floor with Sid and Sadie's books spread out around me, I once again found myself looking at the un-fabulous works of Edward Kennish, painter of inexplicable lines and smudges. Clearly the magicians of the dark arts were easily impressed. This was the fourth book that contained one of his works and I was beginning to suspect him of having a love affair with the authors.

Beside me, Freddie let out an exasperated sigh while combing through one of the other books. I appreciated the company, but I mostly wanted to call it a day and head to bed. The disagreement with Stephen was still resonating in my mind, a dull ache that made itself known every few seconds. The paper work Thorpe had given me was filled out and ready to hand in, but the excitement of the moment was tainted.

"I don't think we'll get anywhere with this," Freddie noted, closing her book with a ring of finality. "There's nothing in here that points us to what they're up to now."

"Although we've learned quite a bit about preforming an epic séance," I pointed out.

"Yes. If I ever want to contact my dead Aunt Margaret, I'll be sure to give them a look through."

It was proof of how bored I was that I burst into a startled laugh at her quip. Freddie, though upbeat, didn't usually make jokes, and when she did, they were usually simple and nearly childish.

"We need coffee… or beer," I suggested, hauling myself off the floor and towards the kitchen.

"I vote beer. One sip and we'll both be asleep."

"Sadly, Stephen and Callum don't seem to buy beer." In fact, no one had bought anything in the last few days and the contents of the refrigerator was sadly lacking. "How about ice cream?"

"As long as it's not Pistachio."

Grabbing the tub of chocolate and a couple spoons, I joined Freddie back on the floor. "School starts back next week, right?"

She nodded around her mouthful of ice cream. "It almost feels like a waste of time now. With everything that's happened. Just feels like my time could be better served somewhere else."

I nodded, though I couldn't agree. Part of me was jealous. I missed Wexford. I missed Jazza and our dorm and eating Cheeze Whiz after a long night of studying. I even missed Further Maths. Not that I wasn't thrilled to be an official member of the squad, but I'd worked hard to get into Wexford and looked forward to it for years. It had been my dream for so long.

"I don't think the case will fall apart while you attend classes," I assured her.

"Yeah, I know. I just–"

But before she could finish her sentence, the door was thrown open and an excited Boo stepped in. Her hair had electric orange streaks in it now and it seemed to mirror her mood.

"Be prepared to love me forever," she gushed, her hand still holding onto the doorknob. When she saw my confusion, her smile widened. "I brought you a present."

And then the door opened fully, revealing the refreshing sight of Jazza.

"What?! You're here? How are you here," I screamed, jumping up and throwing myself into her arms. Her hug was fierce and steady, bringing me the relief I'd been searching for all day.

Behind her stood Jerome, a sheepish smile on his face. He clearly didn't want to be in the way of my reunion with Jazza, but I reached over to grab his hand, pulling him after us into the flat.

"I just got in yesterday," Jazza explained as I pulled her to the sofa. "I told Mum I wanted to set up my dorm early, but I think she knew it was a lie. I was just so excited to see you!"

I hugged her again for good measure, my heart feeling suddenly light and free. Just the scent of her shampoo made me feel as though for the moment, everything was normal. I could almost hear her cello music in the background and taste the cheap wine we used to bum off Angela and Gaenor.

"Please tell me you're one step closer to coming back," Jazza begged.

"Not… um, not exactly. We're still sort of… nowhere. I guess you heard about Charlotte."

At these words, Jazza's cheery face faltered and I saw the tears threaten to spill from her eyes. "I was so mad at her for so long."

"Jaz," Jerome began with the feel that this was already a topic they'd discussed. "It's okay that you were mad at her. And it's okay if you're still mad at her."

"She's dead! It's not… how can it be…" But Jazza clearly couldn't continue this conversation without breaking down and I seriously didn't want my first conversation with Jazza in weeks to be this tragic.

"What about home," I inquired, giving her hand a squeeze. "How was your family?"

"Relieved to have me home. They almost didn't send me back. I had to argue for weeks."

"Sorry." Because it really was my fault. I was the friend that had gotten stabbed by the Ripper and then proceeded to have a mental breakdown and run away. Stephen had repeatedly explained that I wasn't to blame for any of this, but I kept coming back to the downward spiral that had taken place after I'd left Wexford. The shame was making by throat tight.

"Well," Freddie exclaimed suddenly, slipping on her shoes. "I think I'll head back. Let you guys catch up."

And just like that, I realized Freddie had no idea who Jazza was or what was going on. "You don't have to. You can stay," I called after her, but she was already halfway out the door, waving.

"Who was that," Jazza asked, taking a spoonful of the ice cream.

Boo jumped in then, setting down four mugs of tea. "She's someone you're not supposed to know about. Now, about this present you were bringing."

At Boo's wicked smile, Jazza reached into her purse and produced two jars of Cheeze Whiz. I nearly fell of the couch.

"I ordered it online. Thought you might be a little low," she explained and with a squeal of delight, I threw my arms around her neck.

"She's not the only one," Boo said, setting a box of crackers on the table. "Months ago I wouldn't have touched this goo, but now I've been craving it."

And that was how we passed the next couple hours. Eating Cheeze Whiz while Jerome and Jazza filled us in on all things Wexford. It was a merciful break in the spiral of crazy.

"What is this anyway," Jerome inquired later, as Jazza was reaching for her jacket and heading for the door.

"Sid and Sadie's magic books. And before you get excited, I promise it's the dullest thing you've ever read," I warned, but he seemed intent.

"I meant this."

Following his finger, I saw he was pointing to the Edward Kennish painting.

"Oh, some painting from the 1600s. They're all crap."

"All?" Jerome had that light in his eyes; the light that used to shine during the Ripper case.

"What is it?"

"Look at it? Doesn't it seem like a small part of a bigger picture? Like how if you focus on a small portion of a Monet it looks like nothing, but all together it's a picture of a pond."

Pulling over another book, he flipped pages until he found another painting, lying it beside the first. The effect was instantaneous.

"The lines fit together," I whispered, too awed for volume.

"Making up a bigger painting."

"But it still looks like nothing," I noted, pushing the books closer together to heighten the effect.

"Maybe there's more pieces in other books. If you want, I can stay and help you look."

"No you can't," Boo cut in, holding the apartment door open. "Stephen and Callum will be home soon and they won't be happy to find you two here. Now go."

With some lingering hugs, Jazza and Jerome stumbled out while Boo collapsed on the couch, already busy texting Callum. In the back of my mind, I knew she was talking to me, filling me in on some drama down in the Underground, but I couldn't take my gaze off the paintings. They had to mean something.

 **A/N:** Thank you so much, my first reviewer! I'm glad there are others out there as psyched for these books as I am!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Some of the dialogue in this chapter was taken from The Shadow Cabinet, which of course belongs to the wonderful Maureen Johnson. Those words are in bold.

Chapter 4: The Lies We Weave

The flat was eerily silent as I sorted through the books, analyzing and overanalyzing the paintings at the kitchen table. So quiet, you could hear a pin drop. But somehow, the silence was deafening. Like I was waiting to hear someone speak or come walking down the hall and it just never happened. It was the kind of silence that could drive you insane. I was just considering hopping up to turn on some music when I felt pain.

Sudden, searing pain.

Looking down, my right arm was leaking blood from a slice in my skin. It was running down my arm into my palm and dripping on the linoleum. The gash stretched from my elbow to my wrist and it was bleeding at a rate that scared me.

"That looks painful," a voice spoke up and when I raised my head, Sid was sitting beside me, a letter opener in his hand. "Want me to do it again?"

"Why are you doing this," I begged, but before he could answer, I was aware that we were not alone in the apartment.

The open floor plan allowed me to see the sofa from the kitchen and on it sat Stephen, his eyes void of emotion and focused on me. I wanted to run to him, but the pain in my arm had me frozen.

"He won't help you," Sid told me, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek. "All he'll do is lie. Do you remember his lies?"

"Stephen doesn't always share everything, but he doesn't lie!"

"Oh, doesn't he?"

My mind wondered to a sunny afternoon, where Stephen and I were spread out on a grassy lawn. I was curious and angry, but I couldn't remember what we had been discussing. His eyes had looked so tragic. So sad. But when had that happened?

"Rory," Sid called out, his hand slipping down to the inside of my thigh. "He'll only lie to you. I would never lie to you. Trust me, and I'll tell you everything he never would."

"Rory," a different voice called, and suddenly, I was shaking.

"Rory! Rory, wake up!"

My head shot up from the table and my eyes shot nervously around the kitchen, searching for any sign of Sid, but he was gone. Instead, Stephen was kneeling on the ground, face close to mine and filled with worry.

"What happened? Where is he," I asked, but this only increased Stephen's furrowed brow.

"Rory, you were asleep."

Looking down, I saw I was still sitting hunched over the kitchen table with the books spread out around me. I felt oddly light-headed.

"It's three in the morning," Stephen explained, his hand light on my back. "Why don't you go to bed?"

"To bed? Three in the morning?" It was then that I noticed he was still in uniform. "Did you just get in?"

"Yeah. A car accident near Spitalfields. I offered to help direct traffic. What is all this anyway?"

He was pointing at the books before me, and as I gazed down, I remembered why I'd stayed up so late looking at them. "The paintings," I explained. "They all match. They're part of a… of a bigger painting."

My voice sounded heavy and slow to my own ears and the more I stared down at the books, the more the words on the pages bled together. Stephen stared curiously at the pictures in the books, trying to make sense of them. So far, I'd only matched up three, but I guessed there were more.

"A bigger picture. And you think this might be important?" But Stephen sounded like he was asking this question to himself… or maybe I thought that because I could hardly hear him. He was speaking so quietly.

"I think I want to go back to sleep," I mumbled. My head was so heavy, I feared it would topple from my shoulders. Trying to stand, I only succeeded in leaning back in the chair.

"Rory! What happened?!" There was shock and fear in Stephen's voice now and when I looked down, I saw why.

I was covered in blood.

"Your arm," Stephen said, his voice trembling slightly. I'd never heard his voice tremble. He pulled my right arm to him and just like in the dream, there was a gash from my elbow to my wrist. In my left hand, I held the letter opener. "How did you do this? Rory?"

But my vision was starting to go, black spots appearing before my eyes. I could hardly see the wound now. "I… I don't know. I don't remember getting… getting a… letter opener. I don't…"

"Rory!"

Stephen's voice sounded so urgent. Suddenly, he was gone. I wanted to shout for him, to beg him not to leave me, but I couldn't force my lips to move. Before I could panic, he was back, wrapping gauze around my arm to stem the blood flow. I had no idea how long I'd been bleeding, but I could feel how saturated my pants and shirt were. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered how bad this was, but I couldn't dredge up the right amount of fear.

And then I was in Stephen's arms, resting my head on his shoulder and breathing in the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of his aftershave. I now didn't care what was wrong with me, as long as I could stay like this. He was holding me so tight against him.

"Just hold on," he begged, and I felt the cold. We were outside. "I'll get you to the hospital as fast as I can, Rory. Please, just hold on. Stay awake!"

I whimpered when he sat me in the passenger seat of his police car, desperate to have his arms back, and he draped his jacket over me. For a second – or maybe more than a second – my eyes slipped closed and when I opened them again, we were flying down the road. Stephen was swerving in and out of traffic, cursing under his breath, with the sirens blaring. The last time I'd seen him this frazzled was when he'd driven his car in front of Jane's, and even then he seemed more in control.

"Rory, stay awake. Talk to me."

I made some sighing noise in response and he hit the gas harder.

"Tell me a story," he begged. "Something from home."

Digging through my brain, which felt like a thick soup, I tried to come up with a story he might like. Anything coherent at all.

"We sp… spent the night… in… in Kroger's once." My voice was so slow and quiet, I wasn't sure he could hear me. "Me and… uh… Derek. It… it was a d… dare."

"That's the grocery store, right?"

"Uh-huh. We… we played mu… music all night. A… and we… um…"

"And what, Rory?" Stephen was shouting now, his hand warm on my face, brushing back my hair. "Rory? What happened next?"

But I couldn't make my mouth move anymore. It took too much effort. And I was so sleepy. Why couldn't I just go to sleep? His jacket was so warm and it smelled like him and with his hand on my face, I just wanted to sleep.

"Rory! Don't go to sleep! Wake up, please!"

And then there was darkness.

~SoL~

"…really think this is a bad idea." Someone was muttering close to my head.

"I had no choice."

"You should have called me first. We're lucky I was able to push the paper work through in time."

"I couldn't call you! She was bleeding to death!"

Arguing. Two people were arguing very close by my head. Their voices were familiar, but it felt like I had cotton in my ears.

"How did this happen anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but… I think she did it to herself." Stephen. I was certain that was Stephen. Slowly, I pried my eyes open, thankful that the lighting was low. To my left, I saw Stephen hunched over in a chair, looking exhausted and behind him stood Thorpe.

"You could have shouted," Callum spoke up. I couldn't see him, but guessed he was on the other side of the bed. "I was asleep down the hall. I could have helped."

"There wasn't time," Stephen hissed.

"But, why would she do this to herself," Boo asked.

I desperately wanted to sit up and tell them to stop talking about me like I wasn't there, but I was still so tired. Unlike the last time I'd woken up in the hospital, I remembered why I was here. The cut on my arm. Had it really been that bad? And Sid! Sid was there! He'd done it. Hadn't he? Or had that been part of the dream?

"She wouldn't," Stephen responded, his voice insistent, but uncertain. "She wouldn't do that to herself."

"So someone came into the apartment, cut her arm, and left," Callum argued. "I know I was sleeping pretty heavily by then, but I think that would have woke me."

"Stephen's right," Thorpe said. "I don't think Rory would do this to herself. At least not under normal circumstances."

"The ritual," Stephen mumbled. "The one she did to bring me back. We still don't know what they made her drink or how the ritual affected her."

"You think now she has a screw loose," Boo piped up, making an attempt at humor, but her voice was trembling.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I commanded my exhausted muscles to move just enough that I could reach over and grip Stephen's arm. "I'm not crazy."

"Rory," Boo shouted, and suddenly everyone was standing over my bed. Stephen's warm hand gently brushed the hair back from my face.

"Rory, do you remember what happened," Thorpe asked while Boo shot him a death glare.

And I did. I did remember what had happened. But what had happened was crazy. Struggling through my muggy brain, I could clearly see Sid sitting at that table with his sly smile and the letter opener. _I would never lie to you. Trust me…_ , he'd urged. But why would I ever trust him?

"Sid," I explained, and was met with four confused stares. "Sid did it."

"Sid was in the apartment," Callum nearly shouted. "How did he get in? How did I not hear the alarm go off? I know I set the alarm before I crashed."

"We were at the kitchen table. He was holding the letter opener." But even as I spoke, it sounded insane. Why would Sid break into the apartment just to cut my arm and feed me some riddle? Stephen's hand tightened on my shoulder, his eyes growing even more worried than before.

"Rory," he spoke softly. "The alarm was still set when I got home. Do you remember how he got into the flat?"

"I… um…" But I had no idea. "I just remember him sitting at the table. I was going through the books and he was at the table with me. And you were sitting on the couch."

A dark, terrible thought was creeping in on me now and I tried to force it down, telling myself that it wasn't possible. But it was obvious Stephen was already there as well.

"Rory, I wasn't there," he began. "You were already hurt when I got home. You were asleep."

"A dream."

"A dream," Boo repeated, her hand squeezing mine. "You're trying to say you cut yourself in your sleep?"

Callum spoke as he paced. "It's happened. I've heard some mental cases of sleepwalking."

"Sid was in the dream, but he said he'd cut me," I continued, my voice beginning to shake with the fear that was clawing up my gut. "But it had to have been me. W-why… why would I do that?"

"Rory," Thorpe spoke up. "Have you had any other dreams like this? Dreams where you were sleepwalking?"

"No… um, no sleepwalking. But I have had several dreams with Sid in them. Ever since the ritual."

"So, this really could be a side effect," Boo inquired, but Stephen was slowly shaking his head.

"What happens in these dreams," he asked.

I thought back through them, the creepy and the sweet. There was lots of Stephen, though I really didn't want to admit how much I'd been dreaming about him. "He keeps asking me to remember something," I explained. "But I'm not sure what."

"That's what they're all about?"

"Yes. And I… I think I might have actually remembered something this time. Something about sitting in a park, I think. I was with you, Stephen, and we were sitting in the grass talking. But I can't remember what we were talking about. You were sad."

Stephen's eyes had gone wide and there seemed to be fear there behind his glasses.

"Do you know what I'm talking about," I asked, attempting to sit up, but only managing to lift my head.

"No. No, I don't. It was probably just a dream." But, though his voice was steady, there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he really did know exactly what I was talking about.

 _Do you remember his lies?_

A chill ran up my spine at the thought that Stephen was lying to me. I trusted him, more than I'd ever trusted anyone.

"So, wait, all your dreams are about the same thing," Callum questioned and I nodded. "I know this is going to sound bonkers, but is it possible that Sid really is messing with her dreams? I mean, you said he was strong and Sadie healed quickly when she was cut. What if those weren't the only superpowers they've woken up with?"

"Let's not jump to horrifying conclusions just yet," Stephen insisted, backing up from the bed. "For now, let's just focus on keeping a closer eye on Rory." At my sound of protest, he held up a hand. "I know it's not what you want, but you could have killed yourself. I'm not leaving you without supervision. Thorpe, is it possible Marigold could take a look at her. Maybe run some tests to ensure there's nothing medically wrong?"

This I wanted to protest even more, but Thorpe was already nodding his head and dialing a number.

"For such a short thing, you really are a lot of trouble," Callum joked, but his eyes were just as worried as everyone else's.

This brought the ghost of a smile to my face. "I do it just to keep you on your toes."

At some point after this, I fell asleep, and once again, I found myself in the park. The sun was warm on my face, though the London air had a slight chill to it. Stephen sat beside me, his eyes troubled.

" **What I say now, it doesn't go back with us** ," he began. This was even more confusing than our surroundings. Ahead of us, I saw the curve of Marble Arch and felt this longing in my gut – like if we could just reach it, everything would be fine.

"What are you about to say," I whispered, but with the sense that Stephen couldn't hear me.

" **It sounds absurd. It's meant to** ," he continued, though I had the feeling that I'd missed something in between these words and the last. His eyes were boring into me now, pleading… but, pleading for what?

Suddenly, this was more than a little familiar. I could recall the feel of the grass where it brushed my legs, the longing I'd felt for Stephen. Turning behind me, I knew Sid and Sadie would be appearing at any moment and that I'd have to shove Stephen through Marble Arch or he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't stay with me.

As the realization of this memory – this very real memory – hit me, my eyes shot open and I was back in the hospital bed.

"Rory," Stephen called from the chair beside the bed. He was the only person in the room now. "Are you alright? Did you have another dream?"

Looking over at him, all I could think about was sitting with him in that park. This was something I'd forgotten, but had he forgotten it too?

"What's the Shadow Cabinet," I whispered, the words jumping into my head like a familiar song. And it was there again, that look of nervous fear in his eyes, as if I were standing too close to a flame and he knew he couldn't pull me back in time.

"I told you, it's not real."

I nodded, acting as though it was just the dream affecting me, but his eyes gave him away, and now I knew.

Stephen was lying to me.

~SoL~

I felt like a disjointed puppet stumbling up the stairs to the flat, even with Stephen's help. After keeping me overnight, the hospital had finally released me – apparently under my new alias of Francine Brummings. My head was throbbing and more than anything I wanted to feel the familiar softness of my own bed. But the calmness I was picturing was in contrast with the shouting coming through the door.

"You need to settle down before I throw you through that door," Callum yelled, and Stephen immediately situated me behind him as he opened the door.

Peeping around Stephen's shoulder, I instantly spotted the source of the controversy. Standing by the couch with his hands trembling in anger was Jerome. Callum and Boo stood on the other side of the room and it appeared that Boo was attempting to hold Callum back.

"What is this," Stephen asked, instant cop.

"Rory," Jerome exclaimed, his face calming significantly at the sight of me. "Are you alright? What happened? They wouldn't even tell me what hospital you were at!"

"It was an accident… sort of. And I'm fine," I explained, but my words didn't extinguish the tension in the room.

"We didn't tell you the name of the hospital because you didn't need to be there," Callum inserted, his fists tightening at his sides. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not a part of this team!"

"I am Rory's friend and I care about her! I have a right to know if something's happened!" I'd never heard Jerome shout like that, but what struck me the most was the worry… the way his voice shook as he spoke of me.

"Callum's right," Stephen agreed, his voice calm and his hands raised as though Jerome were waving around a pistol. "You couldn't be at that hospital, Jerome, and you shouldn't be here. Rory is in hiding for a reason and you are putting her in jeopardy."

And just like that, Jerome's anger evaporated, his face going white. "No offense, but it doesn't look like you're doing a very good job of keeping her safe," he nearly whispered, his voice soft now. "First Charlotte's body materializes in the attic while Rory's here alone and now she's nearly bled to death."

I heard Stephen's breath catch and couldn't bring myself to look at his face.

"We're doing the best we can," Callum shouted, but Stephen's waved him off. He clearly had something both calming and brilliant to say, but at that exact moment, I swayed on my feet…

…and was instantly caught by two pairs of hands.

Stephen and Jerome were on either side of me, holding me up, neither willing to let go.

"I think I need to lay down," I offered, hoping this would bench all arguments for a while.

"Can, um… can I help you to your room," Jerome asked, and I nodded.

Stephen let go of me instantly, as though I'd burned him, and moved towards the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to start trouble," Jerome insisted the moment we were in the safety of my room, the door firmly closed. "I called your phone and Boo answered and all I could think about was getting to you. I just had to make sure you were okay."

Setting down on the bed next to me, he gently took my injured arm in his hand, eyeing the bandage. "Can you tell me how it happened," he inquired, his eyes full worry. I launched into my story, explained once again the dream with Sid and waking up dizzy from blood loss. With every word, Jerome's face grew more horrified.

"You shouldn't be here alone," he declared when I was done.

"Jerome…"

"No, listen. I… I worry about you, Rory. All the time. Ever since that Ripper ghost nearly took you away from me forever, I've… I just want you safe. Safe and happy."

His eyes never left mine as he spoke and I could see the intensity in them growing. Though I realized where this was headed, I was too slow to stop it and Jerome was leaning in and…

His lips were on mine, like they hadn't been in months. For a moment, I let myself revel in the feeling. Everything was so easy with Jerome. Every emotion he felt bled from his lips to mine and filled me with assurance. But as he gripped my waist to pull me closer, I found myself pushing back.

"Wait," I mumbled out against his lips. "Jerome, wait."

With a resigned sigh, he pulled back, his soft eyes finding mine. The pain there was heartbreaking.

"Rory, there's something I have to tell you. Something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

"Jer, no–"

"Just let me say it, please. I'll go crazy if I don't say it."

I knew I should stop him, but my head was still pounding and I couldn't find the words.

"Rory, I love you."

For a fleeting second, I felt an overwhelming happiness, but I couldn't deny that I very much wanted a different voice to say those words. My mouth gaped open like a fish, but for once, I was speechless.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a long time, but I just couldn't get up the courage. I thought it was nerves… that I was afraid you'd reject me. But now I know what I was really afraid of… and I can see it on your face now."

I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes and my throat was too thick. Of all the people in my life, Jerome was the one I feared hurting the most. And hurting him seemed to be the only option at the moment.

"You don't love me… at least not like that," Jerome inserted for me, and the tears finally slid down my face.

"Jerome…"

"But you love him, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter," I stuttered out. "It can't… we can't be together. He doesn't want…" _Doesn't want me_ … but I couldn't say it aloud.

"That's not an answer. Do you love him?"

A sob broke free of my throat and slowly, I nodded.

Hesitantly, Jerome reached up and brushed the tears from my face, and I felt my heart break inside of me. It was more painful than the cut to my arm.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to his side. "Don't you remember what I just said? I want you safe and _happy_. And if he doesn't realize how amazing you are, he's an idiot."

My head still hurt and the tears were coming in earnest now and I buried my face in his shirt. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulled us up in the bed until we were both leaning against the headboard and he let me cry all over him, his hand running gently through my hair.

After several minutes, once my embarrassing sobbing was finally under control, he broke the silence. "I was actually calling you earlier with news. I found something."

"Found something."

Jerome dug a piece of folded paper out of his pocket, staring at it while he spoke. "I googled Edward Kennish. Turns out, he put out a few paintings and even a book under the alias Elias Townsend. I brought up all the paintings together."

Unfolding the paper, he handed it to me, giving me a moment to analyze it.

"It's a chalice," he explained of the picture he'd roughly sketched.

And I could see it. A very large alabaster cup studded with rubies and gems, like something straight out of a Renaissance festival. But more than anything, I couldn't get over how familiar it looked. The longer I stared at it, the clearer the picture was in my head.

I was in Jane's house, in the bedroom on the third floor. But it wasn't Jane there with me, it was Sid and Sadie. And Stephen was there as well? But… when were we all in that room together? It was on the table, the chalice. And there were Roman numerals on the walls, but they were wrong. The memory was so strong that it took my breath away. I could feel the fear that I'd felt then, along with the overwhelming joy of being with Stephen… of having him back.

"Rory… are you okay? What is it," Jerome asked.

"I don't know. I… I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Once again, the dialogue that came from The Shadow Cabinet will be in bold. Thanks again to those who reviewed! You really made my day!

Chapter 5: Trust Me

"You're room's nice," I complimented, staring around in wonder at the contents of Freddie's dorm. It was the first time I'd been on an actual college campus of this magnitude.

"Thanks. My roommate's getting in tomorrow, so for now I get to spread out a little."

I could hear Boo in the hall, doing a little exploring of her own and chatting up various stragglers lingering in the hall. The campus was truly impressive and for the second time in a week, I found myself jealous of Freddie. It was petty, I know, but this… to get to be on an actual college campus full of history and academics… it's what I've always wanted. Always worked towards. And now there was a possibility that I'd never have it.

"I can take you on a tour of the campus if you'd like. They leave the doors pretty much open during move in week. Parents like to see where we'll be learning," Freddie offered and I couldn't help beaming at her. She'd practically read my mind.

Jumping up off her bed, we ran into Boo in the hallway, staring into the doorway of an empty dorm room. No… not empty. I could see the girl now, sitting hunched on the floor in the corner, her face so pale it was nearly transparent.

"Freddie's taking me on a tour. Wanna come," I asked, but Boo just shook her head.

"Who's the ghost," she inquired instead.

From the way Freddie's face fell, I was guessing it was a tragic story. "Winifred. She died back in the sixties or something. Doesn't speak… to anyone, ever."

"Well, she just hasn't met me." Boo started into the room and Winifred flinched, but just as Boo was at the empty bed, she spun around to face us. "You'll stay with Rory, yeah? Won't let her out of your sight?"

"Of course."

I rolled my eyes at this, but let it go. Ever since my "accident" I'd been on a sort of suicide watch, never left alone except to shower and use the bathroom. It was one of the reasons I wanted to visit Freddie on campus. I needed a break.

But it wasn't the only reason.

Normally, I would have protested the thought of Boo leaving me alone with Freddie. Though a pleasant person, she seemed to bring out the jealousy in me, mostly by how friendly she was with Stephen… and how natural she was with all this ghost stuff. No sign of her having a meltdown and failing her classes and then preceding to run away with a homicidal psychologist. But she was also the only person I could talk to about this and I'd rather not explain what I was thinking to Boo. At least, not yet.

"What do you know about the Shadow Cabinet," I inquired as soon as we were out in the fresh air.

"The Shadow Cabinet? Where did that come from?"

From the way she stopped dead in her tracks, I'd clearly taken her off guard. I had to work on my tact.

"Well, you seemed to know a lot about it when we first met. You seemed pretty certain it was real."

"I was," she acknowledged. "All the digging I'd done, it all pointed to a very real organization. A very old one. But Stephen said it was made up, and he's way more knowledgeable about this stuff than I am."

"Yeah, but what about it made you think it was real?"

"It's mentioned in the literature, sometimes under different names. And the fact that all this has remained hidden for so long. The stones, the ghosts… it seems like word of this would have leaked somehow if people weren't covering it up."

I nodded, starting to walk again and Freddie followed.

"You think Stephen lied," Freddie stated, watching me carefully.

I tried to reply, but the answer felt like acid in my throat. Stephen lying… it seemed impossible, after everything. I trusted him more than I'd ever trusted anyone in my life. But I couldn't deny that I'd learned to read him over the past few months.

"I think so. Maybe."

"But… why? Why would he lie to us," Freddie began, her face calculating now. "We're all on the same side and working towards the same goals. If the Shadow Cabinet really was an actual organization, why would he cover it up?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out. I just… I keep having these dreams."

"The ones with Sid. Where he's telling you to remember?"

"Yeah, those. And I have been remembering things. Things I did with Stephen. I think… I think it was from when I went to get him, wherever it was that I went. Sid and Sadie were there… and I was asking Stephen about the Shadow Cabinet, I think. It was important."

We walked in silence for a moment, slowing nearly to a crawl. The thought that Stephen could be capable of deception of this magnitude seemed laughable, but…

"Do you think it's possible that he's just trying to keep us out of danger," Freddie inquired. "According to my research, the Shadow Cabinet deals with all the supernatural stuff in London. They might be deeper into all this than we know. Maybe he's just looking out for us."

"Maybe."

I'd told myself this before, but it didn't erase the hurt. Whatever the reason, it was clear that Stephen didn't trust me with this. And I'd trusted him with everything.

"Rory, Freddie," Boo shouted, and we both turned to see her racing across the quad to us. "Callum called. We need to get back. They might have found something."

~SoL~

It was a full house in the flat when we returned. Thorpe was on the couch, frantically scrolling through his laptop and Callum and Stephen were talking in hushed tones in the kitchen.

"So what's the news," Boo shouted as soon as we were in the door, and preceded to plop down beside Thorpe.

"We may know why they killed the bookstore clerk," Stephen explained, moving to sit in the chair. I couldn't help the racing of my heart when I saw him, and I didn't think that reaction would ever go away, whether I fully trusted him at the moment or not. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and I wanted nothing more than to make things better… to have him never look that strung out again.

"Clover," Freddie asked, and I heard her breath catch.

"Yes. It seems Clover made several trips to different countries over the last several years. All over; Cairo, Dubai, China, the Americas, Iceland. When he visited, it seemed he'd stay for months, spending nearly every penny he had."

"He liked to travel," Freddie spoke up, but Stephen shook his head.

"I think it was more than that. Airport security hasn't always been as strict as it is now and on his last trip, only five months ago, his bags were searched. He'd come into the airport with several packages of unmarked cheese, which is illegal now, but they also noted an odd stone in his bag. It was solid black, and heavy. They nearly confiscated that as well, but it was proven harmless, and valuable apparently. According to the report, he seemed terrified when they tried to take it."

"You think this stone may be like the termini we use," Thorpe inquired, his face serious.

"I believe it is of supernatural importance, yes. Whether it was important to Sid and Sadie, I have no idea, but it wasn't among any of the personal effects recovered from his store or his apartment."

"It could have just been a relic," Freddie inserted, seemingly intent to protect the memory of her friend. "He collected magical artifacts from all over, and sold most of them."

"Possibly. We've been going through his books, but so far nothing meeting the stone's description has come up in sales, or in the store inventory. The thought that he was collecting magical stones is a pretty big coincidence considering."

"Is it possible he was involved with Sid and Sadie? I mean, he did know an awful lot about them," Boo inquired, but Freddie was shaking her head.

"He hated them," she insisted, her voice shaking a little. "They murdered kids. Kids he knew, that came in his store. There's no way he would side with them."

"So he had something they wanted, then," Stephen concluded. "Rory, you've gone through the books more than anyone? Was there any mention of black stones, probably referred to as sacred or magical?"

I nodded. "They mentioned a lot of stones. Mostly the Eye of Isis, but there were a few others. Gateways to the dead or stones that were blessed to protect homes and stuff. I don't specifically remember one that was black, but I can go back through them."

Stephen nodded, his gaze intent on the floor and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"What about the book Jerome mentioned? The one written by Elias Townsend," I inquired, thinking back to the paintings I'd once considered meaningless.

"I found a copy," Thorpe explained, taking a sip from his extra-large coffee. "It was in a library in Wales. Should arrive any day."

"You think a guy that painted a glorified cup knew something that might help us," Callum inquired, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

By my side, Freddie was nodding. "I agree. It sounds like a longshot."

"But I'm telling you, I remember that chalice," I insisted, shooting a glance at Stephen, but he was staring intently at the floor. "And his paintings were in most of their books. I do think it's important."

"Then it's worth looking into," Stephen agreed, but he still wouldn't meet my gaze. Freddie shot me a glance that said she'd noticed as well.

"In the meantime," Stephen continued, standing from his chair and pacing between the living room and the kitchen. "We need to go back through those books; find anything we can about a mysterious stone. I'll talk to a few of my contacts."

"Ghost contacts," Boo asked, a look of excitement crossing her face. She was always eager to meet a new spooky friend.

"Yes. I'll ask around quietly for information. Boo, you can accompany me if you like. Callum, maybe you can go back to Jane's house, see if anyone's returned. You can take Freddie with you, but if anything looks suspicious, get her out of there."

Callum let out an annoyed sigh, but relented.

"And, Thorpe," Stephen began, but Thorpe was already nodding.

"I'll stay with Rory."

"I really don't need a babysitter. I promise not to cut myself again… at least not on purpose."

"It's not up for discussion," Stephen stated sharply.

I wanted to argue. Actually, I wanted to scream, but the more upset I got, the more defensive Stephen would become. And what I really wanted was to get him alone.

"Right then, come on, Shorty. Follow me," Callum instructed, and Freddie's face fell as she trailed him out the door.

"Wait," I piped up as Stephen and Boo were gathering their stuff. "We need to talk. Now."

I was glaring daggers into Stephen's back, but he never turned. "Later. Now we have to–"

"No, not later. Now."

I saw the moment Stephen admitted defeat. His shoulders slumped and he let out a shaky sigh. With a nod of his head, he started off down the hall, not stopping until we'd reached his bedroom and he shut the door behind us. He practically collapsed onto the bed, his tired head in his hands, but I couldn't sit still.

"You're lying to me," I stated, chiding myself once again on my tact.

"Rory…"

"I want to know why? What is the Shadow Cabinet and why do you freak out whenever I mention it?"

At first, he was so quiet, I thought I'd have to yell to get him to answer, but finally, he lifted his head. "I can't tell you."

"What do you mean you can't tell me? Stephen, you can tell me anything. I swear, I'll keep it a secret if you want, but please… You can trust me."

"I know I can trust you, Rory."

But "I know I can trust you" isn't the same as "I do trust you."

"Do you remember what happened when I… when I came to get you from wherever you were? I honestly couldn't remember a thing, but lately I've been having these flashes. But you… you never really said."

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his eyes so sad they made my heart ache.

"Yes."

"Yes," I inquired, the hurt making my throat tight. He'd been lying to me for weeks.

"Rory… you have to understand, there were things that happened there… things we talked about that you can't know. It's dangerous for you to know."

"Like the Shadow Cabinet."

He didn't answer, just nodded.

"Stephen, I don't care how dangerous it is. I can handle myself. I've done it before."

"I can't tell you this! I'm sorry, but I can't."

It wasn't until I felt the wetness on my cheeks that I realized just how upset I was. Sid's words were beating against my brain, telling me that he was right, that I couldn't trust Stephen. He seemed to read my thoughts and his face filled with horror.

"Rory," he implored, jumping from the bed. "It's not what you think. One day, maybe, I can tell you everything. But right now, I need you to trust me. I swear, I would never do anything to hurt you or put you in danger. Not telling you this… it really is for the best. Please, trust me."

I wanted to say no. I could feel it on the tip of my tongue. But as usual, my heart got in the way of my head. I couldn't look into those eyes and not love him. And even if logic was screaming at me not to, I couldn't help but trust him in this. I couldn't help but know that he would always keep me safe.

Even if his methods pissed me off.

"You promise to tell me one day," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I don't know if it was the tears still cascading down my face or the way my voice broke as I spoke the words, but Stephen moved closer, his hands reaching up to cup my face.

"I promise."

I'd never wanted to kiss anyone so bad in my life. It was a physical pain, this need for my lips to touch his. He could see it in my eyes, I think, but I didn't hesitate. I twined my arms around his neck and rose up on my toes until my lips met his. For a second, he pulled back, and I was sure he was going to start listing the reasons we couldn't do this, but then…

His lips crushed mine with a force that was nearly bruising. It was as though we'd been waiting a thousand years for this kiss and it was the only thing that would save both our lives. He lifted me up off the floor, and I held myself against him as tight as I could. One of his arms was around my waist, and it was slowly driving me mad, while the other was clutching at the base of my neck. And his lips, they were insistent and demanding and I suddenly didn't care that he was hiding things from me or that I was having dreams about a psychopath. All that mattered was this moment and Stephen's heart beating away as his chest pressed against mine.

We broke apart for a moment, just long enough to suck up the much needed air and this time it was his lips that descended on mine. I wasn't aware that we were moving closer to the bed until I felt the mattress under my back and Stephen's weight pressing down on me. His lips left mine and trailed down my chin and back to my ear.

"Stephen," I half-whispered, half-moaned, and he clutched me tighter.

And then he was gone.

My eyes flew open to see him sitting up on the bed, breathing deeply and staring at the floor.

"What is it? What's wrong," I asked, but his lips turned up in a smile.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Slowly, he reached up to cup my face, bringing his lips back to mine for one glorious second, but this kiss was more subdued.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he explained.

"Why not?"

"Things are just too complicated right now. And technically, I am your superior. We just… shouldn't."

I wanted to tell him. To gush about how much I loved him and beg him not to run away from this, but the words just wouldn't come out. Not yet. That nagging little voice in my head still reminded me that kissing someone didn't mean you loved them. If he didn't feel the same, I might scare him away.

"I don't want to stop," I said instead, and he smiled wider.

"I didn't say we were going to and… I don't think I can. But we should probably keep this a secret for now."

"Right," I nodded.

With one last, lingering kiss, he pulled me up off the bed and we rejoined a very confused Boo and Thorpe in the living room. I must have been smiling just a little too wide, because Boo's eyes had gone calculating.

"You ready," Stephen asked, and with a last inquisitive glare, she followed him out the door.

Now I just had to sit here for the next several hours with Thorpe and not scream "Stephen kissed me" at the top of my lungs.

~SoL~

For once, Wexford was actually warm. I snuggled into my bed, reveling in the soft sheets I'd brought over from home and the sound of Jazza turning pages as she studied her German. The rain picked up outside, but I barely noticed. I was too comfortable.

"Rory," a voice called. A voice that definitely should not have been in my dorm room. My eyes shot open and landed on Stephen, who was standing just at the end of my bed. "Rory, come on. We have to go."

"Go?"

"Now, Rory!"

I glanced over at Jazza, but she was still calmly reading away, completely oblivious to the police officer in the room. Jumping up, I shrugged into my bedroom slippers and followed him down the steps and out the front door.

"Rory," someone called – Jerome this time. He was standing on the sidewalk, looking glum. "Are you running away again? Because this isn't you. You wouldn't run away and worry your parents and your friends. You're not that irresponsible. Please, Rory, don't do this!"

But Stephen's hand was already gripping mine tightly, pulling me further away from Jerome. I tried to hold him in my sight for as long as I could, but the fog came on quick. A thick fog that blurred the world right out of existence. It reminded of the thick cloud that had consumed an entire street when the Oswulf Stone was removed. Stephen's hand was the only tie I had to the world.

"This is bad. We have to move fast," he instructed, and then we were running.

" **The Shadow Cabinet** ," a voice said, " **is what makes London go 'round.** "

" **And shackles it** ," another continued.

The voices were whispers in the fog, but I was certain I recognized them.

" **She's very interesting** ," the second voice said, and I recognized it as Sadie's. She seemed to appear out of the gloom, standing before us and smiling. Stephen and I had come to a full stop.

" **She is** ," Sid continued, appearing by her side. " **What is it? It's going to drive me crazy, Sadie.** "

"Stephen," I inquired, unsure if we should fight them or run.

"We should go. Now," he responded, and began tugging me along after him.

As we ran, I couldn't help but notice how hot the day became, and as the fog cleared, I noticed my very familiar backyard.

"How did we get here," I asked, turning back and half-expecting to see London, but was only met with the trees of my backyard.

" **I can't really imagine growing up somewhere this warm all the time** ," he commented, his voice suddenly unworried, when just a moment ago, we were running for our lives.

Gently, he pulled us both down to the grass… and then it was cold again.

"Where'd my house go," I asked, looking over to the now empty field. The London air surrounded us once more.

"Listen closely," a voice said at my ear, and though I knew it was Sid's, I could see no sign of him.

" **All these problems started because you came here** ," Stephen yelled, and I was taken aback by the sudden change in topic… and by the coldness in his voice. " **You cause problems.** "

"What? Stephen, what are you talking about? Are you mad at me?"

" **It's an organization** ," Stephen said suddenly, and I felt as though I'd get whiplash from all the different directions this conversation was taking.

"An organization? You mean the Shadow Cabinet," I asked.

" **They aren't government. They're… they're beyond that**."

"But I thought you couldn't tell me this."

And that was when I realized that I was stuck in another dream. This sudden awareness nearly woke me then, but I felt Sid suddenly at my back, his arm around my waist and his fingers trailing over my cheek.

"You sure you can trust someone like this? He has a secret, Rory. And it's a lot darker than just a secret organization he can't tell you about. Are you sure you can trust him," Sid inquired.

And then I woke up.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry about the delay. My kids started school this week and its been nuts! This chapter gets a little fluffy and I'm not great at writing fluff – just a warning. I thought they needed a little calm before the storm.

Chapter 6: Something Worth Celebrating

I couldn't help rubbing my sleepy eyes as I sat on the couch and pretended to read. The dreams had plagued me for the last five nights. Mostly, they were all the same, but sometimes Sid became violent. Those nights, I'd always wake up in the floor or with my head throbbing from where I'd banged it on the headboard. Last night, I'd screamed myself awake and both Stephen and Callum had come rushing in to ensure I wasn't being assaulted in my sleep. The dreams… they were really getting bad.

But that wouldn't stop this celebration from happening.

My smile widened as I mentally ran through all the party planning Boo and I had done these last few days. The decorations were in place in the kitchen and everything was going to be perfect. If he would just hurry up and get here! What a day for him to be running late.

And then I heard footsteps on the stairs. The door started to creak open.

"Another dead end," Stephen complained as he trudged in. He and Boo had been chatting up contacts all week, but so far, no leads. The books had been less than helpful as well. But I was too keyed up to worry about it right now.

"I thought Callum was staying with you," Stephen complained, visually searching the apartment for our overly-muscular roommate. "Please tell me he didn't just leave you here–"

"SURPIRSE!"

The word was shouted by the three people that came darting out of the kitchen… well, four if you counted Thorpe standing there awkwardly.

"Happy Birthday," I shouted, jumping off the couch and throwing handfuls of confetti in the air.

"B-birthday," Stephen stuttered, staring us down as though we'd turned into little green men in tutus.

" _You're_ birthday, silly. Remember?"

He still looked very confused, and like he may be having a heart attack.

"Rory read your file," Thorpe explained. "She insisted we celebrate."

"Come into the kitchen," Boo cooed, and she and I each took a hand and guided him to the adjoining kitchen where balloons and streamers filled every imaginable surface. On the kitchen table was the cake I'd spent the morning baking.

"A cake shaped like a ghost," Stephen inquired, and I could see his mouth start to twitch up into a smile.

"Of course," I smirked. "They eyes are M&Ms!"

"And there's a plethora of adult beverages in the refrigerator. And you look like you could use one," Callum prompted, slipping a beer into Stephen's hand. He was still too dumbstruck to drink it.

"I haven't celebrated a birthday in years," Stephen whispered. "You really didn't have to do this."

"Please," Callum chuckled. "You know how insane Rory is. Like we could just say no."

Boo nodded. "And you deserve one. Too much work, not enough play!"

Stephen's smile spread and he reached down to gently squeeze my hand. No one noticed except Freddie, who had been standing over in the corner the entire time. Something about her face told me she was not pleased to see Stephen and me so close.

"First, music," Callum instructed, and he proceeded to turn up some British rock band I'd never heard before. He grabbed Boo's hand and twirled her around, purposely bumping into us all until we were all dancing around the kitchen, though Stephen was more swaying awkwardly by the table.

Only Thorpe, who was rolling his eyes, seeming out of the dancing spirit. I traded a conspiratorial look with Freddie and we both took his hands, pulling him out into the middle of the kitchen, forcing him to dance with us.

"A little more foot movement," I shouted over the music, but Thorpe just shook his head, trying not to laugh as he pulled away.

It was as close to a carefree moment as we'd had in weeks. I finally ended up with Stephen, forcing him to follow my lead as I spun around the kitchen.

"Dancing's really not my thing. I had lessons as a kid, but all my instructors agreed I was hopeless," he whispered, his lips just a tad too close to my ear. Another oddly upset look from Freddie. "I'll probably injure you."

"I can risk it."

Throwing my arms around his neck, which was quite a stretch considering how tall he was, we danced through two songs before Boo, out of breath and still clutching onto Callum, turned the music down.

"I say we go for presents! You have to open mine first," she shouted, rushing into my bedroom, where the presents were stashed.

She brought in a big box with a neat little bow on top.

"This you really didn't have to do," he insisted, but she just shoved the box into his hands. Making quick work of the paper and the lid, he pulled out several records – like real old-timey records. Where had Boo even found these?

"I know how much you like vinyl," she explained, and Stephen's face lit up.

"You must have searched months for these."

"I may have stalked eBay for a while, yeah."

Stephen wasn't one for public displays of affection, but he reached over and pulled her into a one-armed hug, his eyes becoming a little glassy.

"Thank you," and it was a truly heart felt thank you. Boo swiped away a single tear.

"Mine next," Freddie chirped, sliding some large, but narrow thing onto the table. It turned out to be a brand new atlas. "Since Callum kind of ruined yours."

Stephen actually laughed at this and Callum ducked his head.

"This is from me," Thorpe spoke up, reaching under the sink and producing an unwrapped laptop. "It's the newest model, best on the market."

"And it's also a present that inspires him to work. How convenient," Callum snickered.

"It will make work more efficient, yes."

"I do love efficiency," Stephen assured him, opening up the computer and starting it up. He still seemed in shock from the actual presents on his actual birthday.

"Well, I don't really do wrapping," Callum explained, holding up his beer. "You're drinking my present."

I couldn't hold off the eye roll as I ran into my bedroom to retrieve my present. Honestly, I was nervous. I'd wracked my brain for weeks over the perfect gift, searching every website I could think of and making phone calls. What if he hated it? What if he was furious and threw it out the window? Okay, that probably wouldn't happen. Get a grip!

Stephen's eyes immediately found mine as I re-entered the kitchen and I realized this was a pivotal moment in our relationship. Nervously, I handed over the somewhat heavy package and held my breath as he tore off the wrapping.

His expression went almost completely blank as he stared down, his entire frame still. It wasn't until he looked up and I could see the choking emotions in his eyes that I knew he liked it.

"Where did you find these," he asked, holding out the three volumes of Shakespeare's plays. They weren't first editions, like he said his sister had once possessed, but they were very old, printed in the 1800s, and in the original binding. It had cost quite a bit in the money department, but it was well worth it now.

"Oh, it was easy. You know, just down the street to the book store." The look he cut me was incredulous, but marred by his half smile. "Okay, so it was a little harder than that."

He moved quickly, pulling me into a hug and resting his head on the top of mine. "Thank you," he mumbled, and I clung to him tighter. I could have happily stayed like this for the rest of the day, breathing in the scent of his body soap that was still clinging to his skin. Despite the chill, he wore only a thin jumper that was soft under my hands.

"Uh-hum," Callum cleared his throat, and Stephen pulled away as the snickers followed. "I didn't say the party was over. We still have this cake to destroy."

And the cake – an old red velvet recipe handed down from my great Aunt – was devoured in less than ten minutes with even Thorpe sneaking an extra piece. But the entire time, I couldn't take my eyes off Stephen. Over the years, he had truly become gifted at burying his emotions, pretending they didn't affect him. It was nice to see the joy in his eyes, even as he tried to squash it. I couldn't imagine parents who discouraged joy. He was the happiest I'd ever seen him and my heart swelled at the sight. At one point, I loved him so much that I thought the emotions would choke me to death right then.

When I did pry my eyes from Stephen's tentative smile, I couldn't help but notice that the more drunk Callum became, the more affectionate he became with Boo. How he would randomly sneak up on her and tickle her or throw his arm casually around her shoulders as he told a story. When they danced, he'd pull her close and they'd stagger around the living room, bumping into tables. Clearly, even a star athlete was no longer graceful after enough beers.

"Now that Stephen's birthday present is all gone – thanks to you drunken louts – I say we continue this down at the pub," Callum offered while Boo was already grabbing for her coat.

"As much fun as I've had partying with you children," Thorpe began, inching towards the door, "I unfortunately have a glass of wine waiting for me at home."

"And I have to get back before curfew," Freddie explained.

Callum wrapped a friendly arm around Stephen's shoulders, leaning into him a little too much. "What about you, mate? The birthday boy can't say no."

"Actually, the birthday boy can do what he likes. My head's already spinning, so I'll decline."

"What? No! I need you there."

Stephen raised a brow in question, and I was quite certain Stephen had never went bar hopping with Callum, but after a moment of silence, Callum relented.

"I won't abandon you," Boo offered, and Callum took her hand and began dragging her out the door.

"Finally, someone I can trust."

And with that, Stephen and I were left completely alone in the flat.

"So," Stephen began, and immediately stumbled into the sofa.

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "So, you should probably sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Yeah, I really don't drink."

Gingerly, Stephen settled onto the couch. His eyes were glassy and his lids heavy. I was almost certain he'd be asleep within the next couple minutes. Part of me wanted nothing more than to curl up on that couch with him, to fall asleep with my head on his shoulder. But it had been five days since we'd kissed. Although there had been several glances and momentary holding of the hands, he had not made a single move. Granted, we hadn't really been alone.

I was a coward.

That was the real problem. Stephen was obviously drunk and I was afraid he'd either reject me or that things would progress and we'd do something he'd come to regret in the morning. We'd kissed all of two times now and each time I craved him more and more. I didn't think I could take it if he turned me away again. I would shatter right here on the floor and since I was the one who did all the housework, no one would clean up my scattered pieces. They'd be tracked into the carpet and squished under the sofa.

And now I was thinking like a mental person. Maybe I was drunk too.

Instead of giving in to desire, I moved to the kitchen and started cleaning up all the cake plates. The lights were still set low from the dancing and the white balloons gave the room an ethereal feel. It was so quiet and peaceful that I nearly jumped out of my skin when Stephen's arms encircled my waist.

"Thank you," his breathed against my ear, his voice husky. "I know I said it before, but I really mean it. Thank you. I haven't had a birthday party since I was twelve, and even then it was just me and my sister."

"You know, I've been imagining some really horrible punishments for your parents. After this is finally over, I'm going to hunt them down and…"

But I trailed off when I felt his lips on my neck, just below my ear.

"I like drunk Stephen," I muttered. He chuckled against my skin.

"I know. My tolerance is terrible."

Turning my head, I was met with his bright eyes staring down into mine and his arms tightened around my waist. He had to bend over to be this close to me, but at the moment, he didn't look like it bothered him. The longer he stared at me like that, the faster my heart sped and my nerves got the best of me.

"Your family reminds me of this guy I went to school with who–"

But his lips descended on mine before I could finish the nervous babbling.

"Has it been mentioned that you talk too much," he inquired, and then we were kissing again.

Really kissing. Kissing that leaves no room for breathing. I'd turned in his arms without consciously realizing I was doing it and my hands worked their way up into his hair as I went up on my toes. The height difference was certainly bothering him now and he took my breath away as he lifted me up and sat me on the kitchen counter, pulling me flush with his body. My legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord and I couldn't help the small moan that escaped me as his hand ran up my thigh under my dress.

I really did like drunk Stephen. Sober Stephen would have never been this demanding. He would have denied what we both wanted and thought only of propriety and what was right. But drunk Stephen took what he wanted and allowed his love of control to take over. For the first time since I'd come to this rainy country, I wasn't cold. If anything, I was overheating.

As my dress slid inch by inch up my thighs, my clumsy fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling as I undid them. I was rewarded by the smooth skin of his chest and the chiseled muscle it revealed. Police training really did work wonders.

But as Stephen's hand found the zipper of my dress, I felt the first stirrings of panic. Where he had abs to write home about, my stomach was more of the squishy variety, complete with a nasty scar cutting across it all the way down past my waist. I'd never really been self-conscious about by body before, but I'd also never been in this position before. And I'd never been in love before.

"Wait," I whispered against his lips, and he froze instantly.

"I'm… Sorry. I'm sorry. It was too fast. Drunk Stephen tends to act before he thinks."

"No, no. It's not that. I don't want to slow down."

I tightened my legs around his waist when he tried to pull away and his hands gripped the counter on both sides of my thighs as he let out a small gasp of pleasure.

"What is it, Rory?"

He was looking right at me and for a moment, I was struck speechless. How could anyone's eyes be so blue? I was drowning in them. My head swam and all I wanted was to feel those lips against mine.

Those blue eyes drifted down and he finally seemed to catch the reason for my unrest. Without even realizing I'd done it, my hand had come to rest against my stomach.

"Your scar," he inquired, and I hung my head sheepishly. "Rory, you are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The only thing this scar shows is how brave you are."

"Says the guy that's never seen it."

"I'm serious, Rory."

"So am I." My voice had taken on a whiny quality that usually meant I was embarrassed. "It's really gross and when you see it, you're not going to be thinking about kissing me all night. You'll be begging me to cover it back up."

Softly, Stephen tipped my chin up so he could look me in the eye. "Let me prove it."

"Huh?" His eyes were doing that intensely blue thing again and my brain momentarily turned to mush.

"Let me see it."

Slowly, I nodded my head and he stepped back, letting me make the decision myself.

"Not here," I instructed, taking his hand as I slid off the counter and led him down the hall. I walked backwards, never taking my eyes off him until we were in his bedroom with the door shut.

Reminding myself to breathe, I closed my eyes as I gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head, tossing it to his floor. Holding my breath now, I waited one second, then two, then three. And then I wanted to cry and yank the dress back on, cursing myself for ruining what would probably have been a wonderful night and–

"Rory," Stephen spoke softly. "Open your eyes."

When I did, his was standing only inches away from me, his hand reaching out slowly to run down the length of my scar. Holding my gaze, he dropped down to his knees and…

His lips… on my stomach. I was tingling all over and my legs were suddenly so wobbly that I wasn't sure they'd continue to hold me up. He drug his lips down my scar, to my bellybutton and back up. If there was a small part of me that was cursing the plain white bra and panty set I was currently sporting, it shut up fast. My hands wound into his hair and when he stood back up to capture my lips again, I pulled him to me so hard, I sent us both falling back onto the bed.

"I always state the facts, Rory. You're beautiful," he promised, his lips tilting up in a smile against my neck and in that moment, I was the happiest I'd ever been.

~SoL~

Since moving to London, I had never once woken up warm. The minute my eyes open, my body would instantly curl up in a fetal position, trying to hold the warmth in as long as I could before I had to venture out of my bed and sometimes I'd start to shiver from the very thought. Once, I'd tried daydreaming about the Louisiana sun, hoping I could trick my tired brain into thinking it was home.

I didn't have to daydream this morning, because for once, I was actually warm. My head was still a little fuzzy from the alcohol last night, so it took me a moment to work out why I wasn't in my bed… and then I noticed the arm wrapped tightly around me, holding me flush against a very warm body.

Stephen's breath fanned out across the back of my neck as he slept and I couldn't hold the smile back any longer. Last night… had that really happened? My swollen lips were proof that yes, it had happened. Stephen had seen more of me than anyone – ever – and he'd said I was beautiful. Beautiful.

I'd been called cute and pretty and Jerome had always appreciated the way I looked, but no one had ever called me beautiful, not like that. And the kisses… they lasted for hours and hours until we'd both been so exhausted that we fell asleep in each other's arms. I had never been so perfectly content.

Despite the presence of drunk Stephen and giddy Rory, we had taken things slow. His pants had stayed on, as had my annoyingly plain underwear, and for now, this was enough. Perfectly enough.

I felt Stephen shift beside me and the arm holding me tightened.

"Morning," he breathed against my neck, dropping a kiss just under my ear.

"I want to wake up like this all the time. You're like my very own space heater. I think this is the warmest I've been since I got here."

"Glad I could help."

I took his hand, pulling it up to my lips and laying soft kisses across his knuckles. He started to raise up behind me… and then he groaned in pain.

"My head," he lamented, falling back against the pillows. "I really don't drink."

Rolling over so I was facing him, I ran my hand up his face and into his hair, massaging his temple softly. "Bet I can make it better," I murmured as I brought my lips to his. The kiss was slow this morning, but deep and decadent. Neither of us had any plans of ever moving again.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me on top of him and my contentment was suddenly gone, replaced by a desire so strong I couldn't hold it in.

"I love you," I spoke against his lips… and he froze.

Why, oh why, wasn't I born with a verbal filter like everyone else?! Why did I always just blurt stuff out? Stephen was staring at me with wide eyes, completely speechless.

"W… what did you say," he managed to whisper.

"I said, I love you."

I could feel the heat traveling up my cheeks as my blush spread. It was uncertain whether he was staring at me in complete amazement or utter horror, and I was just about to kiss him again, just in case it was the latter, when there was a rapid knock on the door.

"Stephen, get up! Rory's gone," Callum shouted through the door, and as the panicked look spread from Stephen's face to mine, I knew we'd just had the same thought. We'd forgotten to lock the door.

"Stephen," Callum called out as he threw the door open and stormed in. "Did you hear me?! I said Rory's…"

Throwing the covers up over my head a second too late, I heard Callum bust out laughing.

"Um… uh," Stephen began, but his voice seemed to have left him.

"Next time, just leave a 'do not disturb' sign on the door or something," Callum chuckled, and a moment later, I heard the door close.

"Rory… I'm so sorry. I can't believe I didn't lock the door."

Pulling the covers back, I planted a kiss on his cheek. "So much for hiding."

"Maybe we still can. We can say–"

"Stephen, your shirt is across the room. I don't think he's going to believe I had a nightmare and didn't want to sleep by myself."

Nodding slowly, Stephen started to sit up, but I pushed him back down.

"He already knows, Stephen, and I was not done kissing you!"

At first, I thought Stephen would protest, but then a look crossed his face that I'd never seen there before. It was mischievous. With no warning at all, I was tossed on my back as Stephen's weight settled on top of me and his lips were on mine once again.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I am SO incredibly sorry for allowing this story to lapse so long! (Falls down on knees and begs forgiveness.) Life just became crazy busy and then my computer crashed - full on, out of order crash. But I'm back! I love writing Rory and Stephen and am so happy to be able to do this again! Thanks to all who reviewed and stuck with this story! I hope to never disappoint you again!

Chapter 7: Once More unto the Breach

"Is that supposed to be supper," I asked, staring forlornly at the box of donuts. Callum stood there… smiling. I was certain he hadn't stopped smiling all day.

"Why not? Donuts are perfect for every occasion."

It wasn't that I didn't like donuts. I loved practically every food group, but since I'd moved in, it had been almost impossible to get real food. Though I loved to cook – and happened to rock at it – Stephen and Callum had no idea how to buy anything resembling an ingredient. Mostly, they ate cereal and takeout. I never thought I'd actually get tired of Chinese.

Rolling my eyes, I returned to my book. The Elias Townsend volume had finally arrived and Thorpe had brought it by this morning when he'd come to "babysit" me.

"Anything useful," Callum asked, sitting down two cups of steaming tea as he joined me on the couch.

"Sort of. It does mention the Rites of Demeter, but not really in enough detail. It mostly talks about the history."

"Nothing about the stones or the chalice?"

"Not yet."

I was trying, really trying to get lost in the words on the page, but I could practically feel Callum smirking beside me. "What," I asked, just a tiny bit of venom in my voice.

"I was just wondering if Stephen enjoyed his birthday present."

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean. I got home this morning, saw your room was empty and freaked… only to find you'd had a sleepover with Stephen. Guess you thought the books you got him weren't enough?"

"Callum!"

He laughed out loud as my cheeks reddened. "I'm pretty certain Stephen hasn't been shagged since I've known him. It was probably the best birthday present he's ever had."

"Callum! Seriously?! It didn't go that far."

"Why not? You had the entire flat to yourselves."

"I just… This is so none of your business. And… wait, did you say 'got home this morning?' As in you were out all night? With Boo?"

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. He shifted nervously in his seat, swallowing hard. "Things got a little heated last night."

"Uh-huh," I prompted, putting the book down and turning to face him. I didn't mention that Boo had left me about fifty text messages today claiming to have something huge to tell me tonight. Maybe I could pry it out of Callum first.

"We were both really drunk… and her parents are out of town on business."

"Uh-huh."

"And… and I stayed over."

"And stayed over is code for…" I was practically bouncing in my seat now and Callum wouldn't meet my eyes.

"We hooked up."

"Seriously?! I can't believe it! How did it happen? What did you say?"

Callum jumped off the couch at that, backing up and holding his hands up between us to ward me off. "I am not a fifteen year old girl, Rory. This isn't share time. I'm just… I'm freaking out. Boo's been calling me all day and I have no idea what to say to her."

"What do you mean? You slept with her. I think she already knows how you feel."

Callum rolled his eyes. "It was a hook up, Rory. Not a marriage proposal."

"No. Don't start. Don't pretend you don't care about her. I know you do."

"Of course I do! That's why this can't happen!"

Now I was completely confused. Callum was growing more agitated by the second and I had to work to calm my voice. "What do you mean? You can tell me." Callum didn't respond at first, just continued pacing. "Don't tell me you're scared of commitment or something. That's like the oldest line in the book."

"I'm not scared of commitment, Rory. I hate it."

In response to this, my eyes widened and I tried to convey an understanding face so he'd continue.

"I made a commitment once, to sports. I loved it. I trained constantly. I knew what my life would be like in ten years and I couldn't wait. And then it was all gone – in the blink of an eye – and I learned that losing something hurts a lot worse when you love it. You want to know what would happen if I got with Boo? Things would be nice at first and I'd fall in love with her even more than I already am. And then, one day she'll wake up and wonder why she's with a loser like me when she could have anyone. And then she'll be gone… my future ripped away from me once again. I won't go back to that, Rory. I won't put my whole heart into one thing again. I can't."

"You don't know that's what will happen. She likes you, Callum. Really likes you. And she deserves better than to be your one night stand. Tell her how you feel. Take it slow. I know you guys can work, so just get over your fear and talk to her!"

"And you know all this from your vast knowledge of human relationships?"

Truthfully, I didn't know anything about relationships. Jerome was my first boyfriend, and I succeeded in horribly breaking his heart. And Stephen… I have no idea where Stephen and I are right now.

"Just trust me. Talk to her. You can tell her all this and she'll understand."

Finally, Callum returned to the couch with me and we both sat there in our respective silences for a moment. All this relationship-defining advice was exactly what I wanted to talk about with Stephen. Last night had been… wow! But he didn't exactly jump for joy when I proclaimed my love and after Callum's interruption, we weren't able to get back on topic. All I knew was that I'd never felt this way about anyone and I desperately needed to talk to him about it.

"So, who was Stephen on the phone with this morning," Callum asked, effectively changing the subject.

"This morning? I have no idea."

"Oh, it must have been while you were in the shower… recovering from last night." I sent a hard punch right into his ribs, but he just laughed.

"It was probably just Thorpe or Freddie," I supplied, picking up my book again.

"Yeah, probably. He just seemed really upset."

That got my attention, but before I could ask further questions, a small trill issued from Callum's phone, indicating a text message, and we both jumped.

"It's Stephen," Callum explained, his face furrowing in confusion. "He wants us to meet him at a club."

"A club? Ghost related or Sid and Sadie?"

"Don't know."

Stephen had been gone most the day talking to the last few contacts he could think of and Boo had been hitting up underground magic shops we'd found on the internet. Apparently, things had finally gotten interesting.

Jumping up, I ran to my bedroom to change. Not that I had what could pass as club-wear, but I couldn't just walk in wearing sweats.

"You know were not going there to dance, right," Callum called from the living room as I shimmied into a white lace dress – an old one of Boo's. It was a little longer on me, but I had to admit, my butt looked pretty hot.

"I'm almost never let out of this flat. Let a girl live a little."

We took the tube, stepping out onto a street crowded with people, and Callum took my hand in his as we shuffled through. As the club grew closer, I started to feel the first rumblings of worry.

Why was Stephen calling us to a club on a Friday night, where there was a lot of people who might recognize me? What was Stephen doing in a club in the first place? It all seemed very odd and I suddenly found myself wishing we'd called Stephen and asked questions.

"This is the place," Callum explained as we found ourselves out front of a black building with a line of people already snaking down the sidewalk. Callum pulled me after him as he walked up to the bouncer, flashing a British Gas card and making up some story about inspecting pipes. The bouncer flashed me a confused look, but nodded us in.

We were immediately consumed by dancers. People ranging from normal to goth to weird flailed and jived around us, causing us to bump into each other. Callum's arm snaked around my waist, holding me close as we pushed our way through the crowd.

"Do you see Stephen," I asked, but I could hardly hear my voice over the music. Callum let go when we'd finally made it to the bar in the back and we both stood on our toes, searching for any sign of dark hair and glasses.

Then I felt hands on my shoulders. The hands slowly made their way down my arms before encircling my waist and pulling me in close. My first thought was a mix of shock and pleasure that Stephen was being this open – because who else but Stephen would be holding me like this.

But my next thought was the realization that the arms around me were _not_ Stephen's.

"Fancy meeting you here," Sid drawled, his lips grazing my ear.

I jumped and Callum lunged for him. I saw the ash tray being raised up in the air seconds before it connected with Callum's head. Sadie stood there smiling as Callum slumped onto the bar, barely holding on to consciousness.

"Pretty fab place we've found here, wouldn't you say, Darling," Sid asked, one hand sliding down my thigh and up again. I struggled, attempting to elbow him in the face like Stephen had taught me or kick him in the shin, but he held me too tightly.

"Oh, don't fret," Sadie purred, running a soothing hand over Callum's head as he tried to stand. "We're not here to hurt anyone. It's time for you to come with us."

"Come with you where? Where's Stephen," I hissed, my eyes frantically scanning the crowd.

"Oh, he's not here, my diamond," Sid explained, his hand sliding my dress up so his hand rested on my bare hip. It made me want to vomit. "We came back from the dead. Stealing a phone was rather easy in comparison."

"Rory," Callum called out. He'd managed to stand, but there was blood running down the side of his head and he was gripping the bar. "Let her go!"

"Now, now. We're not here for a fight," Sid soothed. "Rory here belongs with us and it's time she came home."

"You're not taking her anywhere," Callum hissed, and his hand had dipped behind the bar, coming back with a whiskey bottle which he raised over his head and swung at Sadie.

But with her enhanced strength and reflexes, Sadie was one step ahead. She caught his arm mid-air and twisted. There was a distinct snap and both Callum and I screamed, though it was lost under the pounding of the music.

"Stop! Stop! Please don't hurt him," I yelled as Callum fell to the floor, the pain clear on his face as he cradled his broken arm. There were so many people. Why didn't someone look over and see we needed help?! Callum needed help!

"We won't, Love. But only if you come quietly," Sid promised, and I realized I'd begun to shake.

My eyes scanned the crowd once more, certain I'd see Stephen coming towards me, somehow able to save the day. But there was no one. Stephen wasn't here and he likely had no idea where I was. Boo wasn't coming. Thorpe wasn't coming. Freddie – who'd had even less training than me – wouldn't know what to do even if she was here.

This was really happening.

"I'll go with you. But, please, don't hurt him," I begged, and was thankful when Sadie backed off, indicating that we follow her. As I trailed them out of the club, I spared one last glance back at Callum to see him attempting to pull himself upright.

~SoL~

 **Club Exclusive – 8:05pm**

Jesse Cartwright was already exhausted and the night had just begun. Not for the first time, he was thankful this was his last year of college. After this, there would be no more mixing drinks and waiting tables. He'd find a fantastic job at a premiere company where he sat in a comfortable chair and drank iced coffees all day. All he had to do was get through this last year.

Friday's always started early at the club and Jesse could barely keep up with the customers at the bar. He hated to admit it, but half the time, when it became this busy, he didn't even bother checking IDs.

It was in the midst of this chaos that he saw them, the odd group off to the side of the bar. The two blonds were the most striking; gorgeous and elegant in a way you didn't usually see. They both behaved as though they were walking on air. The blond boy held a relatively pretty girl in his arms, though she was nothing compared to those two. What struck him about this girl with her oddly colored red hair – clearly a bad dye job – was that she seemed terrified… on the verge of tears.

There was a man with them – the neon lights reflecting off his dark skin – slumped onto the bar. Clearly he'd had one too many drinks already.

A group of girls crowded before him, all demanding Blue Motorcycles or Daiquiris or some other incredibly girly drink and by the time he turned back to the odd group, the blonds and the scared girl were gone. The other man was leaning heavily on the bar, his hand tightening into a fist as though he were in pain.

"You alright," Jesse asked, shuffling down towards him. The man didn't acknowledge him in any way, just pulled out a phone and began dialing a number. But before he could finish, he was joined by two other people, both looking slightly frantic.

"Callum," a man in a police uniform called, adjusting his glasses as he approached his friend. Jesse angled himself so that it wasn't immediately obvious he was eavesdropping. "What happened? Thorpe's been calling. When you didn't answer he traced your phone here."

"What's happened to your arm," the girl – a gorgeous Indian girl – asked, sliding her hand gently over the clearly injured appendage.

"Where's Rory," the constable asked, his voice holding a barely contained note of panic.

"It was a trick," Callum began, his voice tight with pain. "We thought we were meeting you. They had your phone."

"They? They who," the girl inquired.

"Sid and Sadie. They have her, Stephen. She's gone. I'm so sorry. She's gone."

The constable, Stephen apparently, looked absolutely horrified. He hissed out a string of curses and his fist connected with the bar.

"We have to leave now! We have to find her," Stephen yelled, startling several customers standing close by.

"We have to get Callum to a hospital first," the girl insisted, and Stephen nodded already hurrying through the crowds as the girl helped Callum.

And then the weirdest thing of this already weird night happened.

Though he never told anyone, Jesse sometimes had hallucinations. He'd had a bad allergic reaction once when he was younger, one that had almost killed him, and ever since then, the hallucinations had come on. The people only he could see. He ignored them mostly, thinking of his grandfather, the paranoid schizophrenic who had a concoction of pills shoved down his throat every day. No, Jesse did not want anyone to know how crazy he was.

One of his "hallucinations" was in the bar, as he usually was every night. Sometimes the hallucination spoke to him, telling him stories of how he'd died in this very bar several years back. No one else had ever seen this hallucination but him, of course, because it was all in his head.

But as Stephen was walking out, Jesse couldn't help but notice how his head turned to the hallucination and looked the man-that-wasn't-real right in the eye. The hallucination – Greg as he'd once called himself – nodded, almost imperceptibly towards Stephen, as though he were acknowledging a fact. If anything, Stephen appeared even more upset and promptly stormed out.

Jesse was nearly overcome with the undeniable urge to follow him; to demand to know how it was that he'd seen Greg, but it was all just so crazy. He was aware that there was a new crowd at the bar now, shouting for drinks, but as Jesse attempted to get his head together, he happened to glance over at the television behind the bar.

Though this was certainly not the type of place that people came to get the update on the latest political scandal or catch the score of the game, the owner always insisted that the television stay on, tuned to the news. Probably hoping to impart some wisdom to the young dancers that flooded here every weekend.

The story that caught Jesse's attention was an old one. They'd been reporting about the missing Wexford girls for weeks now. The one, the girl with the "C" name, had just been found dead not long ago, but the other girl was still missing. It was this girl's picture that was now on the screen. Aurora, they said her name was, though she went by Rory. Her parents were offering a reward.

Rory.

 _Where's Rory_ , Constable Stephen had asked.

Looking at the girl's picture on the TV screen, she was smiling, but he was certain it was the same face. That scared girl who was here with those blonds. He knew the whole thing had seemed weird.

He had his phone out of his pocket and was dialing before the news story went off.

~SoL~

Back home, I would always sleep with my curtains open. I am a cold-natured person to begin with, like a cat always looking for a sunny corner to curl up in. My room was angled so that when the sun rose in the morning, I could feel its rays on my face, warming me up, and I'd never felt more comfortable. On the weekends, I would stay in bed sometimes until noon, just enjoying the feel of the sun as I burrowed further into my covers.

I could feel it now, the sun warming my face, and for a second, I waited for the scent of my dad burning the bacon or the sound of my phone ringing as my best friend, Erin called with the latest hot spot to meet tonight. But instead, I heard the sound of London traffic and also… someone breathing very close to my face.

"Rise and shine," a cheery voice called.

My eyes were open in the same second and I found myself face to face with Sid. He was sitting in a chair by the bed, leaning in close to me. His hand brushed away a few errant strands of hair clinging to my face, making me cringe.

"What are you feeling like this morning," Sid inquired. "Eggs, sausages… crawfish, or whatever crazy foods they eat where you're from? We have a cook who will make you anything you like."

"Get away from me," I hissed, sitting up in bed and backing towards the wall. Sid put his hands up in surrender.

"Relax, darling. I'm not here to hurt you. We have a big day planned. You need your strength."

"A big day of what?"

I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to burn him alive just with my stare, but he didn't seem that impressed.

"All good things after breakfast. Now, the bathroom is over there," he explained, pointing to his right. "Why don't you get cleaned up and come down. There's someone you need to meet."

With that, he leaned over, dropping a light kiss to my forehead before striding out the door and leaving me alone. It took me a minute to notice I was nearly hyperventilating, and I had to put my head between my knees and do a little deep breathing. The room he had me in was – to say the least – luxurious. I was certain I'd never slept on softer sheets and all the furniture was a deep mahogany color and solid wood. Even the lamps had gold trinkets worked into the design.

Behind me was the window that had warmed me before, but to my extreme disappointment, there were thick bars on the other side of the glass.

"Crap," I muttered, hauling myself out of bed and finding that I was thankfully still in my dress.

According to the clock on the wall it was eight in the morning. I remembered leaving the club, and the sight of Callum crouched on the floor in pain. A sudden overwhelming sense of worry came over me as I thought of him, but surely he'd been able to call Stephen or Boo. They would take care of him.

More troubling at the moment was the fact that I couldn't remember anything after being placed in their car. Had they drugged me? I did feel pretty groggy and well-rested.

The bathroom was just as grand as the bedroom, with an actual claw foot tub in the corner. The mirror was gold, as were the light fixtures and the faucet. It seemed Sid and Sadie were still quite rich.

My reflection wasn't actually that bad, aside from the bed head. There was a brand new brush in the drawer, along with an entire collection of shampoos and conditioners, shaving gel and face wash. It was as if this room had been prepared for me. Sid had most certainly meant for me to take a shower, but my first priority was getting as far away from this place as possible. Running the brush quickly through my hair, I tiptoed out of the bathroom and then into the hall.

"Don't girls usually take longer than that," a voice to my left inquired, and I felt as though a cold hand were throttling my throat.

Jack stood there, his blond hair as meticulously styled as ever, smirking. His eyes moved over me, taking everything in from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, and I fought the urge to run back in the bedroom and lock the door.

"You're still alive," I pointed out. "Your friends didn't get so lucky.

"They weren't worthy to serve. I proved myself useful. Now, come along."

He didn't give me time to protest, just grabbed my arm and hauled me after him down the stairs. This house wasn't as big as the other place on Hyssop Close, but it was just as artfully done. The retro wallpaper, the odd décor… it was clear who did the decorating.

"She's presentable, I guess," Jack announced as he brought me into the dining room. Sadie was already seated, examining a magazine with curious interest, and Sid was standing by the window – a window so big it nearly took up the entire wall. "Though, if you want me to force her into the shower, I won't object. She clearly needs a lesson in respecting her superiors."

"Now, Jack," Sadie chided. "That is not how we treat our guests. If she doesn't feel comfortable showering in a strange house, let her be. Besides, she smells lovely. Sweet, like vanilla. Is that one of the modern perfumes? They do smell better now than they used to."

"Never mind that," Sid said, moving away from the window to stand behind his sister's chair. "There's someone who has been dying to meet you, Rory."

And with no more announcement than that, I heard someone enter the room behind me. The man walked around, eyeing me closely, running a hand lightly through my hair. He was young looking, maybe in his late twenties, with light brown hair, trimmed close to his head. He wore a suit, clearly tailor made and very expensive, and his green eyes were triumphant as he took the sight of me in.

But all this wasn't why my mouth hung open in shock, why my heart froze and my lungs forgot how to perform their duty. I'd seen this man before. He'd stared back at me from dozens of portraits. I'd seen his face in the back of books and googled him on the internet, but I still couldn't believe he was standing before me.

That stare that I'd seen painted on canvas from the 1600s regarded me curiously as I forced my mouth to close. Edward Kennish, aka Elias Townsend, was somehow very much alive!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Close the Wall Up with Our English Dead

I was about ninety-nine percent sure I was dreaming now. Any minute and I would wake up back in my bed in the flat and it would be time to start researching again and I would stare at the picture of Edward Kennish in one of the occult books and he would just be some guy who died centuries ago… not someone very alive and standing across the table from me.

"Poor dear, I think she's in shock," Sadie noted, coming to sit beside me at the table. I wasn't entirely sure when I'd sat down, but at some point, my legs had refused to hold me upright any longer.

"I take it you know who I am," the nearly-400-year-old-man noted, staring down at me with a look of interest.

"I… I saw your paintings… and your book. But you can't be… that can't be you," I stuttered.

"Oh, I assure you, I am that man."

"But you're… you…"

"You'll be wanting an explanation. Perfectly understandable. Sidney, would you be so kind as to start? I think it would be easier for her to hear your story first."

"Would be my pleasure," Sid responded, coming to sit across from me. I could feel the nausea raising in my stomach, but I swallowed against it.

"I suppose the story begins with the love of myths," Sid began, his face alight. "You see, my sister and I have always been special. When we were four, I had this dream. I'd dreamt that our parents had brought home a dog for Christmas. A black lab with a solid white spot on his back. The next morning I ran to tell my dear sister all about it. We shared everything, didn't we Sadie?"

"Oh yes. Everything," she smiled, her hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

"But before I could start, she launched into a description of her own dream. You can imagine my amazement when I realized it was the same dream. Exactly the same dream. Since then, we'd been focused on our abilities not only to share dreams, but to glean the emotions of others. Although we did not yet possess the sight, we could feel that other world. Sense the presence of the dead when they were near. We've been researching magic and the occult from the time we were little. And then the accident happened."

Sadie's face fell at his words, but there seemed to be no real sadness there. It was as if she were playing a part. Pretending to be sad because she knew people would expect her to be upset over the death of her parents.

"Okay, so maybe accident isn't the right word," Sid allowed, a wicked smile alighting his face. "My father was teaching me to drive, you see. It was only supposed to be a simple trip down the street. But our annoyingly observant parents had become a little too concerned by our interests. They were planning to separate us, and we couldn't just let that happen. Also, we needed to come close to death in order to gain the sight. That was what everything we had read had said. It was amazingly simple, driving that car off the bridge, into the river. It was also simple to trap our parents in the car while we escaped out the open windows."

"You killed your own parents," I rasped out, the horror stealing my voice. I felt tears well in the corners of my eyes. How could anyone be so cruel?

"It had to happen," Sadie chided, reaching across the table to take her brother's hand.

"Yes it did," Sid confirmed, but his eyes, his disturbing eyes seemed to dance with excitement at the confession. Sadie may not have felt remorse or sadness or anything really, but it was clear Sid enjoyed the pain he had inflicted. "It solved a lot of problems. We took our research to new and exciting places. Greece, Rome, Saudi Arabia, even the oldest parts of China. We learned so much. And eventually, we came across the paintings of Edward Kennish."

At the mention of his name, Edward – or Elias, or whatever – gave me a small smile as he poured himself a drink from a table by the window.

"Of course, Edward Kennish was not his real name, and we soon came across a set of books he'd written under his true name, Elias Townsend. We'd read the ancient texts on gaining immortality and untold abilities, but the most detailed works had been lost. Elias' books went into just enough detail to peak our interests. We searched for more, and eventually, more found us."

"He is a great mentor," Sadie inserted, smiling over at Elias. "He walked us through the Rites of Demeter. Explained their importance. We never could have achieved this without him."

"He's obviously done it himself, you see," Sid explained. "There was all the proof we needed that all we wanted could be gained."

"But we had to prove ourselves worthy."

At this admission, both Sid and Sadie turned to Elias who now stood at the head of the table.

"I received the sight when I was thirteen years old," Elias began. "My older brother, Tobias, was convinced that I'd been possessed. Back then, they took possession quite seriously. I was tied to a stake and the townspeople prepared to burn me alive as a witch. But I'd thankfully made a friend. Her name was Diedre, a lovely young lady who had perished of influenza twenty years before. She rushed into the flames and untied me. All the people saw was my ropes falling to the ground seemingly on their own and while they were in shock, I fled. In 1631, a book had been recovered. An ancient text of the Greeks. It told the story of Demeter and Persephone, but more importantly, it told of the group of people who worshipped her, and the ritual they performed. You see, it was their dream to remain always to protect her sacred temple, and they found a way to do it."

Here, he stopped, becoming somewhat fixated by the view outside the window. This had to be a dream! I had to wake up. Mentally, I returned to Stephen and his bed and the way his lips had felt against mine. I wanted to be back in that bed more than I'd ever wanted anything. No, I just wanted Stephen. Stephen to come barging in with MI5 at his back.

"I must admit, it worked far better than I expected," Elias continued. "I never planned to live this long. To see all I have seen. It becomes maddening after a while. The loneliness."

"You never have to be lonely again," Sadie chided, moving to stand by him. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his shoulder, but he merely shook it off.

"No. And certainly not now that Rory is here. Do you realize just how special you are, my dear?"

He came closer, until he was right in front of me, his fingers trailing down my temple. I was completely frozen.

"There was a boy back when I performed the Rites. An Enlightened, as they were called then. He was part of a tribe of traveling mystics that lived in France. He was like you, Rory, but where you never meant to have this power, it was thrust upon him on purpose. His people worshipped Demeter. They performed the mysteries and had proven themselves worthy. Hierophants was the appropriate term. It was their desire to perform the greatest mysteries, to imbue themselves with the power Demeter could give. To make them immortal and powerful. Of course, this ritual had not been done for thousands of years and many were afraid of what would happen. So I, ever eager, volunteered to go first."

Something in Elias' eyes was terrifying. They were a little too wide, a little too nervous as they roamed over the room. I had the feeling that something had come unhinged there long ago and I simply couldn't look straight at him or I'd start screaming. Instead, I watched Sid, Sadie, and Jack as this story unfolded. Jack's expression was hungry, as though he wanted exactly what Elias described, while Sadie was watching her mentor with fondness.

But Sid, he no longer smiled and his eyes seemed to be calculating. It was an expression I'd seen in my dreams over and over, as though there was a puzzle he was trying to sort out.

"It was a success, obviously, and the majority of the tribe followed after me. But the one thing I hadn't considered in all my planning was my brother," Elias continued, his lips turning up in a sneer.

A tidbit of research came back to me. According to history, Elias' brother had killed him for practicing witchcraft. Obviously, history had missed out on a big part of the story.

"Tobias had followed me," he explained. "He'd watched the ritual as I'd performed it and believed me to be practicing the darkest forms of magic. As the tribe fell into their own deep rest, waiting to be awakened by the Enlightened boy, my brother charged in and put a sword through my chest. The remaining tribe made attempts to fight him off, but my brother had been well trained. They did succeed in running him off, but not before the Enlightened was killed, leaving no way for the sleepers to be returned and transformed. At least, not until now."

Slowly, the words he spoke began to make their way into my brain, flooding my senses until their horrifying meaning became clear. "You're saying," I began, my voice trembling, "that the people you're talking about… their still… not really dead?"

"Exactly. They've been waiting for you for centuries. You see, the great stone – the Eye of Isis, as you know it – had been in their possession, but it was my brother who stole it when he thought me dead, and took it with him to England. It was he that first smuggled it in with crown jewels, knowing it would be well protected. And then the stone was stolen, chopped into pieces and hidden away by the Protectors. Or as they call themselves now, the Shadow Cabinet."

I froze at these words. The Shadow Cabinet again. The grassy park sprung up in my vision again, with Stephen sitting at my side.

"You see, I knew the chances of my finding a true Enlightened by myself were slim, but if there were others looking for such a being… well, the odds were far greater. I found people, curious people, who had been researching myths and had stumbled across the Rites of Demeter. I instructed them on being true followers, on performing the mysteries. But each time I left out one tiny detail. I never told them how to wake up. I knew eventually, someone would want their loved one back bad enough. Someone would search hard enough, and eventually, they would find someone with the power."

At this, his gaze turned to Sid and Sadie with a look of rapt appreciation. Though I truly hated her, part of me wanted to remind him that it wasn't Sid and Sadie that had put in all the hard work to make this happen. Jane had, and they'd killed her for it.

"Aurora, come," Elias commanded suddenly, and Jack was there, lifting me out of my chair. His arm fell across my shoulders and we followed Elias out of the room and into the kitchen. It was a gorgeous kitchen, fully furnished with everything a cook could ever want. If I hadn't been so terrified, I may have actually been envious. A woman, the cook obviously, stood by a large oven, watching us curiously. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the alluring smell of food, but my nervous stomach turned it into nausea.

There was a door leading down to the basement, which Elias opened, proceeding down the steps. It was dark, and Jack had to hold onto me to keep me from stumbling. I was aware of Sid and Sadie behind us, whispering to each other. It may have just been the fear throwing my brain into hyper drive, but it seemed like Sid was angry and that Sadie was trying to placate him, though they spoke too low for me to hear the actual words.

"Be careful of that last step," Elias ordered as Jack navigated me over the broken board.

And then Elias switched on the lights.

There, laid out on the dirty floor of the surprisingly large basement, were at least a hundred people. All were completely motionless, their eyes closed, their chests still. None of them shivered in the cold or twitched in their sleep. But, like Stephen and Sid and Sadie, none of them appeared dead. There was no chalky pallor or stiffness to the limbs. They were simply waiting.

Waiting for me.

White floor, dark room, candles stacked on every conceivable surface, though none of them were lit. It brought back something, a memory I'd nearly forgotten. _This terrible tangle of bodies on something white. A dark room flooded with candles._ I'd seen this before… in the sewers.

"I've kept them safe, and as you can see, I've added to their numbers over the years."

And now that he'd mentioned it, I noticed their clothes. Though some wore heavy dresses and sturdy suits of another era, others were dressed in clothing I actually recognized, some even from this decade.

"You want me to do it again. The mysteries," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Fear tore through me, making my stomach quiver. Last time, Stephen's life was on the line and I had refused to let the fear in, at least not fully. But now… fear was all there was.

"Soon. But first, there are a few more puzzle pieces to line up."

And then another image flashed through my head. The Oswulf stone. The powerful stone that had been so instrumental when we'd done the ritual before. I could still smell the moist air of the sewer, still feel the exhaustion that had been tearing at my limbs. I was certain – mostly certain – that they had no idea where we'd put it and no matter what, I would not be telling them this time. My friends weren't here now for them to threaten and I wouldn't endanger lives again.

We stood there, silent, waiting for him to finish his story, but Elias was ignoring us completely now. He walked among the rows of his sleeping friends, muttering in various languages. I recognized French and even Spanish, but others I had no clue. His eyes resumed that crazed glow and he grew more and more animated at each body.

"Well," Sid began, gripping my hand and pulling me back towards the stairs. "Maybe now would be a good time to leave our esteemed mentor to his own people and have a spot of breakfast."

Sid pulled me up after him, with Jack following along behind, looking slightly nervous. Maybe he'd just realized that being immortal might make you crazy. Crazy enough to talk to mostly dead people that couldn't hear you.

Sadie was the only one that lingered, watching Elias with a rapt expression, before finally trailing after us.

The smell hit me as soon as we reentered the dining room. I'd never seen a breakfast spread so grand, and I come from the south where people really know how to cook. Where hearty food is practically our pastime.

"Go ahead, Rory. Try anything," Sid encouraged, his smile exuberant now. "Martha is a fab cook. I promise you've never tasted eggs this grand!"

Holding out a chair for me, Sid motioned for me to sit while Sadie and Jack found seats of their own, already digging in, but Jane's face flashed up before me, along with a full set of sirens blazing inside my head.

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, backing away.

Jack's lips turned up into a smile. "Don't trust us? That's insulting."

"It is actually," Sadie agreed, her eyes narrowing.

"You should build your strength, love," Sid insisted, motioning again to the chair. "We have quite a big day for you and if you're weak, it won't be nearly as fun."

I wanted to protest, but my stomach was practically snarling. Sid may have a point.

And then, a wave of worry and fear so strong took me, and I wobbled on my feet. The strength of the emotions – emotions that I was sure hadn't come from me – were so intense, I felt as though someone was standing right behind me, calling out to me.

"Easy there, little diamond. I told you. We have to keep up your strength," Sid chastised, helping me into a chair. And just as fast as the feelings had come on, they were gone.

~SoL~

 _I was surrounded by angels. Though I guess this should have frightened me – since usually people who are surrounded by angels are dead – I was comforted by this fact. I knew all of these angels, every one of their ceramic faces. Somewhere in the house, I could hear my Cousin Diane humming to herself. I'd been here so many times, I knew every rough spot in the carpet, every scratch on the wall. I knew that the angel with the blue gown that rested on the mantel had a chip in her wing from where Uncle Bick had accidently knocked it over at a Christmas party. But despite how familiar this all was, I wasn't happy here. In fact, I'd never wanted to leave anywhere so much in my life. It wasn't that I didn't want to visit with Cousin Diane, but the fact that there was somewhere so much more important I had to be._

 _"Please, Rory, where are you," a voice called out, and I flung myself off the couch, determined to find the speaker. "Rory."_

 _"Stephen," I shouted back as I stepped through the doorway to the kitchen… or at least the doorway that usually led to Cousin Diane's kitchen._

 _Instead, I found myself in Thorpe's flat, surrounded by the people I wanted to see more than anything in the world._

 _"There has to be somewhere we haven't thought of yet. Some house they purchased in someone else's name," Boo argued while she paced the living room._

 _Looking down, Stephen was seated on the couch right beside where I was standing, so close I was surprised I couldn't feel his hair brush my arm._

 _"We've been looking for Sid and Sadie for months, Boo! If we couldn't find them then, how are we supposed to find them now," Stephen shouted, his voice breaking slightly. He held his head in his hands and I could see them shaking._

 _"Stephen, mate, don't give up. We'll find her," Callum assured him, taking the seat beside him and throwing an arm over Stephen's shoulders. "Rory has a real knack for trouble. She'll likely burn down the house and catch the attention of all the media in London."_

 _"But I'm right here," I called out, reaching to place my hand on Stephen's shoulder, but... I couldn't feel him. Looking down, my hand was certainly resting on his shoulder, but it was as though I were holding air. "Stephen," I called again._

 _His head turned. Jerked in my direction so suddenly that I was sure he could finally see me._

 _"Did you hear that," he asked, leaping up from the couch._

 _Thorpe moved closer, his eyes darting around the apartment. "Hear what?"_

 _"Rory. I swear I heard her!"_

 _"Stephen," I called out. "I'm here!"_

 _But it was obvious they couldn't see me. I was a ghost. Had I died in my sleep? No. If I were truly a ghost, Stephen, Boo, and Callum should all be able see me. Unless… unless the power of the terminus in me made me a special kind of ghost. One that was invisible even to them. The panic was welling up fast now and I tried to call out again, but–_

"Wakey, wakey, love." Sid's voice, beside my ear.

I shot out of bed, despair crushing me as I realized I was not in Thorpe's apartment, but still in Sid and Sadie's fun house.

"You were calling out for your protector again. Just how close are you and Stephen," Sid inquired. He'd pulled a chair right up to my bed and was straddling it backwards while staring at me with rapt attention, as though I were the most exciting thing he'd seen all day.

"What… what time is it? What's going on now?"

"Oh, it's only five in the afternoon. We had to drug you quite heavily when we brought you to the house. I'm guessing they're still in there, making you a little groggy. But don't worry. I have plenty of games to keep you awake."

At this, I scooted as close to the wall as I could get, pulling my legs up to my chest. "What games?"

"All in good time. But to understand the necessity of the games, you'll need a little background. I know Jane had you perform the mysteries, but I take it you had no idea what you were doing."

At this, I merely stared at him, waiting for him to continue. The longer I let him talk, the longer I held off the "games" – which, coming from Sid's mouth, sounded terrifying.

"You know, I've often wondered if Demeter is truly to be credited for all this… or if she's even real at all. You see this," he asked, pulling a heavy-looking black stone from his pocket. A black stone that exactly fits the ones Stephen described from Clover's road trips. "Mystical stones. They're all over if you know where to look. Each holds power. Power over the human body, over the elements of this world. So, maybe there is no Demeter that empowers us. Maybe it's all science and knowing how to manipulate the stones."

He slid the black rock back into his pocket, his eyes dancing now. "Do you know why we have to go to sleep for the ritual? Why we must bring our bodies to the brink of death? Metamorphosis. Like how a caterpillar must crawl inside his cocoon to become a butterfly. The _kiste_ , the _kykeon_ , even the alabaster chalices, all are ingredients necessary to prepare our bodies for the transformation. And as we fall into our deep slumber, our souls are protected in the stones. In my case, the piece of the Eye of Isis I wore around my neck. Our souls are preserved while our bodies grow stronger, flooding with magic. We awaken when the Enlightened guides our souls back to our bodies."

Despite the fear coursing through my system, I found myself watching him with wide-eyed interest. Likely a result of the remaining drugs still swirling in my system.

"Do you know why you were able to bring Stephen back," he inquired, and I had to admit that I was stumped.

"I'm a terminus," I responded lamely.

"Exactly. You were the magical stone that protected Stephen's soul. Where my soul went into the bit of the Eye of Isis that was around my neck, Stephen's soul went into you. You protected him while the magic in you healed his body on the inside."

"I… I what? What do you mean…? Stephen was inside me?" My voice was trembling.

"Think. During that time when he was dead, did you ever feel as though he were right there with you? Like you could feel his presence even though you couldn't see him?"

I hated thinking about that time, those days without him, not sure if I'd ever see him again and fearing that if I did, I could never touch him. But now that he mentioned it, I did have that feeling. In the hospital, after… after his heart had stopped… I kept feeling as though at any moment I'd look into a room and he'd be standing there. In the flat, going through his things, I'd turned around, half-expecting to see him standing there watching me. All the places we'd searched for him, they'd never felt right… because he was with me all along.

"You did," Sid answered for me. "Of course, his body wasn't prepared the way ours were. He's been restored, of course, but he's exactly like he was before. He'll live, grow old, and die. But our path is a little more exciting."

As he spoke, the door behind him opened and two men entered. They wore near identical black suits, though they were completely different. The first man was short with white hair and large beady eyes. The second was tall and broad with a beard as dark as his hair. The short one smiled at me – a chilly smile that had me shaking.

"Ah, gentlemen, I had hoped for more time," Sid complained, but stood from the chair. "Allow me to introduce Hobbs and Winchester," Sid introduced, pointing to the short one first, then the tall one. "Members of the esteemed Shadow Cabinet."

"The Shadow Cabinet?!"

Hobbs continued smiling at my clear dilemma, but Winchester remained motionless.

"We'll all be working together now," Sid exclaimed with a tint of a sour note to his voice. "Isn't it wonderful?"

This was all too much to take in. I knew the Shadow Cabinet was important; I'd been trying to gather information about it for days, and now the entire organization was working with Sid and Sadie?

"There's still one piece to this puzzle you're missing, little diamond," Sid explained, sitting next to me on the bed and throwing his arm over my shoulders. He pulled me close, until our noses were nearly touching. "It's time for you to get your memories back."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks AineMorrigan for the reviews! They've really kept me upbeat! (Once again, the parts of this taken from The Shadow Cabinet are in bold.)

Chapter 9: Rip Me Open

The pain was intense. More intense than any physical pain I'd ever felt. It felt as though someone had sliced my head down the middle and was rooting around in my brain, removing the pieces they found interesting. The pain shot off through my nervous system, spreading out to my arms, my legs, my toes, until every inch of my body throbbed and burned. Until I wished I were dead.

I'd been warned. I could still remember Sid's honey smooth voice as he'd explained how this worked. He could enter my dreams from a distance. Dreams were easy, the minds natural defenses were down and he could simply slip right in, though he was limited with where he could go… which memories he could unlock. But having me this close, being able to touch me, he could go practically anywhere he wanted.

My brain still fought, which was the source of the pain. He'd instructed me to relax, not to fight, but that was like asking someone to lay still while a mad scientist performed an autopsy on their still living body.

I didn't want him in my head! I didn't want him seeing the hidden things that were meant for my thoughts only!

So I fought… and the pain intensified.

But fight as I did, the memories still came. It was like I was living them all over again, though this time, I was screaming all the while. I saw the street with the American style diner, where Stephen was waiting. Our walk in the snow… the house on Hyssop Close… meeting Sid and Sadie. I felt every ounce of horror I'd felt the first time I saw them, like I'd just walked into the lion's den at feeding time.

" **Darling, he's in the Shadow Cabinet** ," Sadie had explained, and at first, this knowledge confused me. Stephen couldn't be in the Shadow Cabinet. He thought they didn't exist. He was just Stephen, the constable that ran the secret ghost police. Stephen who cared about me and saved my life and would never let anything happen to me. The Shadow Cabinet were Hobbs and Winchester, the two men who were currently standing in a room with me and allowing me to be tortured. Stephen would never be a part of that.

The scene continued to play out, despite the pain in my head and my shrieking pleas for Sid to stop. There was the escape from the house, the speeding car… my house, looking exactly as I'd remembered with Stephen sitting on my bed. I could feel how much I'd wanted to kiss him. How I would have given anything to stay in that peaceful moment with him forever.

That one thought, of kissing Stephen in my bedroom, of him seeing every inch of me and there being no secrets… just him and me… the pain lessened slightly. I wasn't fighting as hard now. I wanted to know more. I wanted to see Stephen; wanted to learn his secret.

We were in the park now, the one I'd seen in my dreams.

Stephen was angry, we were sitting in the grass. I listened as Stephen explained the Shadow Cabinet, the sacred stones that kept the gates closed. He'd made the organization sound like the thing that protected London. Possibly the most important organization in the world. I was having a hard time believing that as another slice of pain tore me apart. And then…

" **Me. Your job is to protect me** ," I'd said, and a terrifying idea was slowly creeping into my consciousness.

" **You're a thing to be watched and kept** ," Stephen had explained, though it was unclear if these were only the beliefs of the Shadow Cabinet, or his as well. " **It matters. You don't understand. It's all that matters.** "

The pain intensified and I knew that in the real world, I was screaming and writhing on the bed. I didn't want to hear anymore. I wanted out, but Sid refused to release me.

" **Did you come after me because I'm the stone? Is that the only reason you're interested in me** ," I'd asked then, and I waited with baited breath now.

" **I would have done that no matter what** ," Stephen had said.

" **But is that why you – you know. What we did. Did you just pretend to like me?** "

" **Rory, I don't think you understand–** "

But he'd never had the chance to finish. The most important question of all – did Stephen really care for me or was it all an act he was put up to by the Shadow Cabinet? I wanted to scream at Sid to take me back to that memory… wanted to have Stephen here right now to ask him again, but it was too late. Sid and Sadie had arrived then and Stephen had wanted to stay, to keep them from following me back. I remembered it all now. Pushing him down those stairs, rushing into the blackness and knowing that Sid and Sadie were right on my heels.

The pain was burning me alive, destroying every inch of what had once been my body and with one final scream…

Everything disappeared.

~SoL~

The first thing I was aware of was a sense of worry that was not my own.

 _Rory_ , a voice called in my head. Stephen. I knew it was him, could almost feel him. He'd been a part of me once, his soul stored inside me and kept safe. I could feel our connection, could feel his sense of urgency… but then the memories came flooding back.

The unanswered question. The fact that Stephen was a member of the Shadow Cabinet and he'd lied about it. Lied to me.

I'm not even sure how I did it, but I suddenly felt the connection close, like I'd slammed a door between the two of us. I just couldn't feel him that close to me, not yet. The sense of betrayal was too strong.

Suddenly, there were hands on my face, massaging my temples. "Rory," Sid crooned, and it made me tremble, the memory of the pain coming back. "Open your eyes, Darling."

Slowly, I pried my eyes open to see white ceiling illuminated by the soft glow of the lamps. Everything was sore. My body felt stretched, like it used to after a particularly brutal field hockey practice.

"It's probably best if you take it slow for now," Sid encouraged, just a hint of mocking humor to his voice. I wanted to slap him.

"Don't touch me," I hissed instead, and the hands on my face stilled and finally moved away.

"My, we're feisty after our nap, aren't we?"

"I'm feisty after I've been tortured into unconsciousness."

"You could thank me for giving you your memories back. Weren't you curious at all?"

I still very much wanted to slap him. "I need water," I croaked out instead, and moments later, a glass appeared beside me in the outstretched hand of Hobbs.

It took me much longer than usual to sit up, my body protesting the slightest movement, but the water felt good sliding down my sore throat… sore because of the non-stop screaming.

"I don't suppose you could have just told me what happened," I inquired.

"You wouldn't have believed me."

"That Stephen is a member of the Shadow Cabinet? An organization that is apparently happy to watch young girls being tortured?"

"Now, now," Hobbs began, his smile a little too wide. "We are certainly not happy to watch you in pain, but it was necessary. You had to understand Stephen's role in this. Our one priority is the well-being of London, to keep it safe. It is a very prestigious honor and Stephen is very committed to the task."

"To protecting me."

"To protecting the power you possess."

His words were like a slap in the face and the moisture in my eyes began to cascade down my cheeks. The questions were bubbling up in my throat, but I knew that if I opened my mouth, the sobbing would begin, so I took another sip of water instead.

"I've been trying to tell you for weeks," Sid supplied, his eyes searching mine.

"The dreams. It was you giving me those dreams," I realized, feeling suddenly dirty. What had Sid seen inside my head?

"I saw how much you love him. Do you see now what I was trying to save you from?"

"Just because he lied doesn't mean he doesn't love me!" I was shouting now, and I managed to sit up further, despite the pain.

"Did he say that to you? That he loved you?"

"He… No, but he cares about me. I know he does, and whatever it is you're doing here, I don't believe he has any part of it!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Hobbs began, and he sat down on the end of the bed. I couldn't help but imagine kicking him off into the floor. "We explained our plan to him last week. He's known all along we planned to take you."

A chill was creeping up on me that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Shaking started, first in my stomach, then in my hands, my feet. I couldn't stop trembling.

"He wouldn't let you," I argued, but my voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Oh, he didn't like the idea. You're right, he does care about you, but in the end, his loyalty is to England, to protecting the people. That is, after all, what we do. You may think us cruel, but I assure you, we have the good of the people in mind."

"Last time I checked, I'm a person. Do you pick and choose which people you protect?"

"Sometimes… sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

Something struck me then, as I watched Hobbs look over at Sid who was watching me with careful eyes. Something wrong. "Why are you working with them," I asked Hobbs. "If you really are looking out for the good of England, shouldn't you be trying to stop them?"

Hadn't that been what Stephen, Boo, Callum, and I had been doing all these weeks? Trying to stop Sid and Sadie? Or was Hobbs right? Maybe Stephen knew where Sid and Sadie were all along and was just waiting for the plan to fall into place. No! I couldn't think like that! It hurt too much!

"Let's just say that we realized we could help each other," Hobbs explained.

"Remember this," Sid inquired, pulling the black stone from his pocket again. "I explained to you how the mysteries work, in a sense. How the soul goes into the stone while the body is transformed. This stone is currently holding at least a dozen souls belonging to the sleepers downstairs. There are twelve of them, all filled and waiting for you to reunite the owners to their bodies. But, sadly, Sadie and I only have eleven of the stones."

At this confession, his gaze turned to Hobbs, whose mouth was now in a tight line.

"You see," Sid continued, "despite all their views on morality and the safety of the world, the Shadow Cabinet is not opposed to blackmail."

"Blackmail might be a bit harsh," Hobbs argued, looking truly offended.

"Oh no, my bug-eyed nemesis. Blackmail is exactly the right word." He looked to me now, his smile rueful. "They have the twelfth stone and they will only release it to us if we help them gain what they want in return."

"Which is what," I asked, a sense of dread consuming me.

Hobbs scooted a little closer to me, even though I cringed away, and pulled a different stone from his pocket. This one was instantly familiar.

"A terminus," I stated.

"Yes, exactly. Part of the Eye of Isis. You're familiar with the story. How the stone was broken into seven pieces. Two of them, as you know, are lost in the Thames thanks to Newman. Another two are in the possession of the Scotland Graveyard. And two are being kept safe by the Shadow Cabinet. And then there's you. Our living terminus. London would be in dire straits indeed if the power from these stones were to be lost forever."

Watching me, he carefully slid the stone back into his pocket. His eyes were sympathetic, as though he were my kindly grandfather come to tell me some unpleasant news and was worried how I'd take it.

"You saw the stone that was used to terminate Alexander Newman. Stephen showed it to you," he inquired, and at this I nodded, thinking of the cloudy bit of diamond that was now completely useless. "Newman was such a powerful ghost. When the stone terminated both him and the woman, it was such a strong reaction, that it expelled the power from the stone. As you were the strongest thing close by, it latched itself onto you – which is a lucky thing indeed."

I wanted to argue with him that this power hadn't exactly brought me luck, but I bit my tongue.

"You see, if the power from one stone were to be truly extinguished, all of the pieces would cease to work. You saw what happened when the Oswulf stone was removed from its resting place. If the Eye of Isis lost its power… well, let's just say it would not bode well for this city."

His eyes were boring into mine now, like I was supposed to have read more into that, but I still wasn't sure what he was getting at. Not to mention every muscle in my body was throbbing with pain.

"You don't recognize the problem yet," he noted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You, my dear, are mortal. You will die one day. You could die tomorrow, and if you did, the power inside you would be lost. The entire Eye of Isis would be lost and London would be thrown into peril. The power inside you _must_ be returned to the original stone. It is of the greatest importance."

"Wait, wait," I interrupted. "You want to take this power from me? Make me normal again? That's it?"

Normal! I could be normal again. Elias would no longer need me. No one would be after me. I could be a fully functioning member of the team, not an asset to protect. Or I could return home, back to my family. I'd been dreading what it was they would want from me, what they would ask, but this was like a dream come true.

"I'm afraid it is not that simple," Hobbs elaborated, and my dreams deflated. "Taking that kind of power out of something is no easy thing. You saw firsthand how strong the reaction was that expelled it in the first place."

"So… what, it would take time? It would hurt? Fine. I don't care. I want this power gone!"

"Would you be willing to die," Sid asked, his voice soft in a way I'd never heard it before.

My voice was gone. I couldn't respond to that. Die?!

"That's what you'd have to do," Sid continued. "The power will only leave your body at the time of your death."

My heart, which had begun to speed in excitement, was now rushing for an entirely different reason. The truth was… no, I wasn't willing to die. I honestly didn't care what that meant for London or its stupid magic rocks. I wanted to live. I wanted to grow up and get married… have a career or paint murals on the sides of buildings! I wanted a lifetime of choices and complications and miracles! No, I was not willing to die!

At this thought, the fear receded, leaving a white-hot rage in its wake. My hands were balled into fists at my side and I leapt off the bed, towering over Hobbs who was still sitting in a hunched position.

"You're not killing me for some stupid rock! There has to be another way," I shouted.

There was hands on my shoulders in an instant. Winchester's big, beefy hands, holding me back from attacking Hobbs or rushing out the door or whatever it was he thought I would do.

"That's what Stephen said," Hobbs sighed, his eyes never leaving mine. "And he's been searching for it for weeks now."

My gut ached as though he'd punched me, taking my breath, my anger, and my strength right along with it. "Stephen knew you wanted to kill me," I asked. Winchester's hands were no longer holding me back, but holding me up.

"Don't you remember me telling you he had a dark secret," Sid broke in, the hint of a smile in his voice. Sid loved causing misery, inflicting pain.

Without thinking, I pulled my arm back and punched him square in the mouth, just like Stephen had taught me. Blood welled up from his lip and poured down his chin and for a moment, I was rewarded with his baffled expression.

"Calm down, Miss Deveaux, or we'll have to sedate you," Hobbs ordered, and Winchester shoved me down onto the bed, holding me still.

Sid chuckled, eyeing me with not anger, but appreciation. "Not a bad hit," he acknowledged.

"Now, I believe it's time we got down to business," Hobbs explained, standing over me now with a stern expression. He clearly didn't like disorder and I felt a sudden satisfaction that I'd disrupted his day. "Aurora, we need that stone, the one that lost its power. We know that Stephen has it and that you likely know where it is. When you die, that stone must be in close proximity to your body so the power will return to it. It's imperative that we find it."

"Why don't you just ask Stephen for it, since you're both so close," I spat, though the quip tore through me instead of him, slicing open my chest and piercing my heart.

"Sadly, Stephen seems to have briefly lost his way. He wants more time, but time is something we don't have. He refuses to hand over the stone, and though we've turned over that flat, we still can't seem to find it. That is why we need you to tell us where it is."

For once, I was thankful that Stephen wasn't one to share. He'd never told me where he kept that stone… but I had an idea. In fact, I was certain I knew where it was. I'd never been able to fully finish going through that box of personal items when he'd… been asleep. There had been a few things in the bottom, things I'd feared were so sentimental that I'd break down completely if I saw them. One had been a small wooden box, like a woman's jewelry box, most likely his sister's. That stone had been important to him, had been what he'd been given when he'd started the ghost police. I'd seen the look on his face when he'd shown them to me for the first time, the sense of pride he took in them.

If I had to guess where he'd stashed it… wouldn't it be with all the other personal things he'd held onto throughout his life?

"Even if I knew where it was, why would I tell you? You'll kill me as soon as you get it," I sneered, but Hobbs wasn't deterred. Instead, his smile widened.

"Oh, we weren't expecting you to tell us."

And then Sid was next to me on the bed, his hands back on my head.

And I was screaming.

~SoL~

My eyelids were so heavy, I could hardly pry them open. How many times had I done this now, pulled myself back out of unconsciousness? The pain in my limbs was so great, I couldn't even lift my head and my throat felt like sandpaper. Tears leaked down my face, but I wasn't sure how long I'd been crying.

"You need to stop fighting," Sid encouraged, his hand running through my hair, which was now damp with sweat. "The fighting only makes the pain worse."

"Maybe… I'm just not… ready… to die," I breathed out, my jaw aching with the effort of speaking.

"So you'd rather sacrifice London?"

"N… no." But I didn't have the air to explain. No, of course I didn't want to hurt millions of people. I just wanted to find a way to save the Eye of Isis that didn't end in my death.

Sid's fingers were still working their way through my hair, his lips close to my ear. "Come now, little diamond. I've already told you. You can trust me."

His hands stopped moving, now simply holding my face, and I gritted my teeth in anticipation of what was about to come. But instead of pain, I only heard Sid's voice in my head.

 _Rory_ , he crooned. _You need to trust me. If you want out of this alive, trust me._

My eyes shot open again, boring right into his. What did he mean by that?! Trust him, the man that had just caused me unbearable pain? He had to be joking. But the look he gave me was real, was pleading. It caused me to let my guard down for an instant… but that was all it took.

Pain laced through me once again, and I gagged out a scream. The box, Sid was seeing the box. Where Stephen had hid it, under a loose floorboard in his closet.

"So it's not so easy to find next time," Stephen had joked when I'd asked.

I could feel the triumph that Sid felt for just an instant before he was pulling out of my head and the pain receded.

"No," I shrieked, but he was already explaining to Hobbs exactly where to go.

The two members of the Shadow Cabinet smiled in triumphant glee before rushing from the room. It was just me and Sid now, and he was bending over, touching his lips to my forehead.

"Thank you, Darling. You can sleep now," he insisted, but all I could do was cry.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I just wanted to say that you guys are awesome! The reviews for this story have been so inspiring! Thanks for the love!

Chapter 10: Unlikely Savior

I collapsed under the weight of the water.

Sitting in the shower, letting the constant pour cascade down my sore shoulders felt unbelievably good. It was weird how having someone root around inside your head made you ache all over. The memory of the pain was still very fresh in my mind and I knew I had to focus on the simple task of bathing or the screaming would start… and I didn't know if I'd be able to stop.

"You almost done in there," an impatient voice asked on the other side of the door. Jack's voice.

I wanted to shout at him that I'd just been tortured and was entitled to a few minutes in the hot water, but my throat was too sore. It throbbed just to swallow. Using the last reserves of my strength, I reached up and turned the water off, slumping into the bottom of the bathtub.

I had to get up. It wasn't like I could escape from this bathroom, but my brain was too tired to work out a plan. Instead, I latched on to the new connection I'd just discovered.

I could feel Stephen. His emotions, his thoughts and worries. Maybe I'd never noticed this before because I'd never been this far away from him since I'd brought him back, but now I was extremely aware. It was the only thing that kept me sane while Sid was inflicting the crippling pain. That one connection to Stephen.

I still didn't trust him and there was an agony that started in my stomach and spread to every inch of my body whenever I thought of all he'd hidden from me, but I desperately needed a security blanket right now.

 _Stephen_ , I called out in my head, searching for that spark that would connect us. He was there instantly.

 _Rory!_

He was shouting. I had the sense that he'd been shouting for a while. It was obvious he didn't understand how he could hear me, and likely thought he was having a psychotic break, but it was still comforting.

At some point, I'd started shivering as the air from the vent blew over my still wet skin, but I ignored it, holding on to the sound of Stephen's voice in my head.

 _Rory, we're going to find you. I swear it!_

 _I'm scared_ , I admitted. I couldn't help it. I wanted to curl up on his lap and cry. _They want me to do the ritual again and then they're going to kill me._

 _No! I won't let that happen. Do you understand me, Rory! It won't happen._

I could feel the connection start to fray as my strength faded, but I felt a renewed sense of peace. That didn't sound like a man that had handed me over to be murdered. That was the sound of someone who still cared about me and was fighting.

"Seriously, come out or I'm coming in," Jack shouted, pounding on the door.

With a sigh of frustration, I hauled myself upright and stumbled out of the tub, only to collapse on the floor. Drying off and dressing took an infuriatingly long time and I was surprised Jack hadn't knocked the door down by now. At least the jeans and t-shirt Sadie had given me were comfortable.

Holding onto the counter for support, I eased the door open, half expecting the unwelcome sight of Jack leering at me… but he wasn't there. My legs were shaky as I walked out into the bedroom. It was dark, all the lamps off. I had left them on. I was sure of it. Why would Jack just leave? Wasn't he under orders to watch me?

But Jack hadn't left.

Flicking on the lamp beside the bed, I saw his still form lying in the center of the room with Sid standing over him.

"Is… is he… dead," I squeaked out. Not that I actually cared about Jack, but after everything, I really didn't think I could handle a dead body right now. Why was I constantly surrounded by dead bodies?!

"Don't be dramatic. Of course he's not dead," Sid answered quickly. "Though he'll likely be soon. It depends on what answer he gives me when I wake him up. Now, come along."

He made a grab for my arm and I backed away, colliding with the wall.

"Please don't be difficult," he sighed as he gripped my arm and pulled me after him out the door. "I'll explain everything outside, and do try to be quiet."

Had Hobbs and Winchester returned with the stone already? Was Elias going to have me perform the mysteries now? Was I going to be left to die in that dark, cold basement? I attempted to pull my arm free of Sid's grasp, but I was still too weak, and only succeeded in nearly falling on the steps. Sid hauled me back up and continued to drag me down the stairs and out the door into the snow.

I'd been cold before, but now the shivering intensified and I could feel ice in my veins.

"Here, take this," Sid ordered, draping his wool coat over me while I shoved my arms through the holes. Taking off his shoes, he bent down and shoved my feet in them. They were several sizes too big. "In the pocket you'll find one of those new mobile phones. Please tell me you know the numbers of those people that were protecting you."

"Huh?"

"Did the torture addle your brain? I'm helping you escape. There's a café just down the street. Get there and call them to come pick you up."

"What? Why? I thought you needed–"

"Let's just say I'm no longer interested in waking up Elias' friends. Look, I'll find you in a couple days. Just get lost."

I was still standing there like a lost puppy and finally Sid took hold of my shoulders and turned me in the right direction, nearly shoving me down the sidewalk.

"Please tell me those nutters that were protecting you before can do a better job," he inquired, and I felt a sudden surge of anger course through me.

"Nutters? They're not the ones worshipping Greek gods and digging through people's brains."

"Yes, hanging yourself in a boathouse is the picture of sanity."

"How did you–"

"Just go," Sid interrupted. "Before Sadie or Elias get suspicious. I'll find you soon and then we can discuss how fun the prospect of working together will be."

I had more questions. Actually, I had a million, but I'd just realized that this was really happening. For whatever reason, Sid was helping me escape. My legs were still wobbly and the sidewalk was slick from the still falling snow, but I managed to do a sort of hustle walk to the café Sid had indicated. The lights in the windows were warm and bright and it was still packed with people drinking their after dinner expressos.

I stumbled through the door and threw myself into a seat in the back, curling up inside Sid's warm jacket while I rifled through the pockets for the phone. And there it was, a sleek black iPhone, clearly brand new. As I brought up the call screen, I prepared to dial Stephen's number… and then hesitated.

Could Stephen be trusted?

He was the first person I wanted to call. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms while he muttered on about paperwork and procedures and his glasses slid down his nose. But whenever I closed my eyes, Hobbs' words came back to me.

 _You're right, he does care about you, but in the end, his loyalty is to England, to protecting the people._

As much as it hurt to admit it, I couldn't trust Stephen.

I dialed quickly, clutching the phone to my ear until I heard the comforting voice on the other end.

"Hello," Thorpe answered uncertainly.

"It's Rory," I croaked out, and the tears began cascading down my face.

"Rory! Where are you? What's happening? Are you alright?" His voice was controlled, as always, but I could hear the undercurrent of panic there.

"I'm okay. I… I escaped. Please come and get me."

"Of course. Tell me where you are and we'll be there–"

"No! Just you. Please, just you! Don't tell Stephen!"

"Rory… what's going on? Why can't I tell Stephen?"

"Please, just trust me," I begged, gagging on my tears now and drawing the attention of the couple at the next table over. "Come and get me. Please."

"I'm on my way."

~SoL~

The coffee was soothing sliding down my throat, but the cold still had me and I pulled the blanket Thorpe had given me tighter around my shoulders. Thorpe's flat was just as I remembered it, clean and professional. No pictures, no handmade quilt from his great-grandma. Just a place to eat and sleep.

At the moment, it was the loveliest place I'd ever seen.

"Rory," Thorpe spoke, his voice soft and low as though he were approaching an injured animal. "I'm going to need you to tell me what happened."

He took the seat beside me on the sofa, but didn't touch me. There was a worry in his eyes that I hadn't seen since the day Stephen… had his accident. My mouth opened, but I couldn't force the words out. Instead, the tears leaked from my eyes.

"It's okay. It's okay," he pleaded. "You don't have to explain everything now. But I do have to call someone. Stephen and the team are still searching for you. They're worried, Rory. Very worried."

My eyes widened at that. I wanted to beg him not to call. At least not until I found out the truth, but… I didn't actually have a way of doing that.

"Okay… call them," I said instead, and took another sip of coffee.

He stepped into the other room to make the phone call and when he came back, my tears were gone. Maybe it was the memory of the last time I was in this room, dazed after what had happened with Stephen and hiding from Jane. I'd known then that I had to be strong, that I couldn't let my emotions cripple me. Somehow I was always finding myself broken on Thorpe's couch and I had to find the will to woman up.

"Sid and Sadie took me," I started as Thorpe took his seat beside me on the sofa.

"Callum told us this," he confirmed. "You'd received a text from Stephen asking you to meet him, but when you both arrived at the club, Sid and Sadie were there and they had Stephen's phone."

I nodded. "They took me to this house. It was right up the street from that café you picked me up at."

Thorpe was watching me expectantly, waiting, and I had to take a deep breath before I launched into my insane story. I told him everything, meeting Elias – Thorpe's eyes widened in shock – the bodies in the basement – now they widened in horror – the black stones that stored human souls… and the deal they had made with the Shadow Cabinet.

"I thought Stephen said the Shadow Cabinet was fake," Thorpe inquired, interrupting me for the first time.

This was where my throat closed up. Part of me still didn't want to believe that Stephen had anything to do with this, and I needed to talk to him before I explained this part to Thorpe.

"Maybe he didn't know," I whispered. I'd tried to sound convincing, I really had, but Thorpe was eyeing me with suspicion now.

"And they want to return the power in you… to the stone," he asked.

"By killing me."

For a long moment, he just watched me… and then, he took my hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "You're safe now, Rory. I promise, no one will hurt you."

"Thank you," I breathed.

There was a loud commotion in the hall then, voices all talking at once. Stephen's voice. Just outside the door.

I leapt off the couch, unsure if I wanted to run to the door or run and hide. Thorpe seemed to sense my alarm.

"Why don't you go to the bedroom and lie down. I'll talk to them first," he offered, and I nodded my head, rushing into his room and slamming the door closed.

Here, at least, there were some touches of personality. There were pictures, one of a woman I thought might be Thorpe's mom, and paintings hung on the walls. Stacked on the bedside table were nearly a dozen books of poetry. But all this couldn't distract me from the urgent sound of Stephen begging to see me.

I curled up on the bed, pulling my knees up to my chest as I listened to Thorpe trying to calm them.

"She's really shaken up right now. Just give her some time," he began, but Boo cut him off.

"We don't want to interrogate her," she yelled. "I just want to see that she's safe and whole. Just let me hug her and then I promise we'll let her rest!"

"I'm sorry, Thorpe," Stephen spoke up, his voice tight with anger, "but I am going in that room now. I have to see her now!"

"Stephen, wait," Thorpe called out, and the arguing escalated.

Callum's deep voice chimed in, trying to diffuse the situation, and I pulled the pillow over my head. Stephen was livid now, but Thorpe held an authority in his voice that couldn't be questioned.

As I listened, I couldn't deny the longing I felt to see them… or the horror that bubbled up at the thought of confronting Stephen. Pulling the pillow tighter around my head, I prayed for it to be over soon, and then…

The door opened softly. For just a moment, the arguing grew louder before whoever had just stepped in shut the door again. The bed dipped down beside me and a tentative hand touched my shoulder.

"Rory," Boo called, and she pulled the pillow away from my face. She sat there with fresh tears on her face, looking like an angel sent to save me from hell – if angels usually had blue hair. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob. And then I threw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders so tightly that it was a wonder she could still breathe.

"We were so worried about you," Boo confided, squeezing me back. She smelled like vanilla perfume and rain and London and it was the happiest scent I'd ever inhaled. "Rory, Stephen has really been freaking out. He's been losing it. Thorpe said you needed to be left alone for a while, but… can he please come in?"

She pulled back just enough to see my face. I had no idea what she saw there, but it must have been enough to shock her.

"Rory… what happened?"

"I…"

But that was as far as I got before the door opened again and Stephen stood there. His glasses were crooked on his face and his hair was sticking up in wild tufts all over his head, and his eyes… they were so filled with awe and relief that for just a moment, I forgot about the Shadow Cabinet and the torture. Forgot about the mysteries and my impending death.

"Stephen," I whispered, and that seemed to be the magic word that put him into motion. He was at the bed in a second, his hands cupping my face. I was vaguely aware of Thorpe standing behind him, looking apologetic, and Callum peering in from the doorway with his arm in a cast.

"Rory… look at me, are you alright," Stephen asked, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. "I promise we won't ask you any questions now, but I have to know that you're alright. Did they hurt you? Did they…"

He sat there beside me, waiting for me to answer, but I couldn't speak, could barely even breathe. I had to talk to him now. I had to know the truth. He still looked like the same Stephen I'd been kissing just a few days ago and – God help me! – I still loved him. But I had to know.

"We need to talk," I ordered. I'd been trying to make my voice strong, but even I could barely hear it.

The recognition in his eyes was immediate. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

"Can I speak with Rory alone for a moment," he asked, eyeing Boo and Callum meaningfully. They both nodded, Boo patting my head for just a moment before following Callum out the door. Only Thorpe stayed.

"Rory, do you want me to stay with you," Thorpe offered, eyeing me warily. I'd never taken my eyes off Stephen and I saw his face tighten with hurt.

"It's okay," I replied. "I need to talk to him alone."

Thorpe nodded, moving slowly out of the room. I waited until the door closed firmly behind him.

"I want the truth," I began. "What is the Shadow Cabinet?"

"You already know."

Stephen's hands were still on my face and his eyes were begging me to trust him. It was all very distracting; tempting me to forget about this argument and just forgive him and curl up in his arms. I jumped off the bed so swiftly that I nearly lost my balance and went down. Stephen was there instantly, reaching out to help me, but I threw my hands up, warding him off.

"I want to hear it in your own words," I demanded.

Stephen sighed heavily for a moment, the exhaustion clear on his face. "It's a secret organization that guards the mystical stones of London. Keeps the gateways functioning properly."

"And you're a part of this."

"Yes."

I backed up to the wall, partly to put some distance between us and partly because I was still having trouble staying upright. "Did you know they were going to take me?"

"Rory, you have to understand–"

"Answer the question!"

"I knew they were planning it, yes. But I was trying to stop them, hold them off."

"Did you know that Hobbs and Winchester want to kill me?! Or that they're working for Sid and Sadie, who just so happen to have a basement full of sleeping idiots for me to wake up?!"

"Rory," Stephen pleaded, reaching for me again, but the look on my face must have told him his touch would not be welcome. "I knew they were talking to Sid and Sadie, but I have no idea where they are or what their plans are. I never would have handed you over to them, Rory, I swear!"

"What about the plan to kill me and release the power back into the stone?"

"I… yes. They told me. And I told them it was insane! That there had to be another way. I would never have let them touch you, Rory!"

"Were you ever going to tell me? A secret organization wants me dead! How can you keep that to yourself?! They tortured me, Stephen! Let Sid mess around inside my head for hours!"

"What?!" This time, Stephen's hands latched onto my shoulders, his eyes roaming over me, searching for injuries. "Sid was…"

"He can get inside my head! He's been giving me those dreams for weeks. And when I went to get you… those memories I never could remember… I have them back now."

"You remember." He moved even closer, so close I could feel his breath fan over my face. "All of it?"

I nodded. "You never got to answer the question." He looked confused now. "Did you just pretend to like me? Was it all just for your job, to keep me close?"

I could feel my eyes fill with traitorous tears once again, but I refused to let them fall.

"No. Rory, I never pretended anything. Not when it came to the way I feel about you."

"Then how could you keep all this from me?"

Dropping his hands from my shoulders, he took a step back, removing his glasses and running his hand over his face. "This is why I told you it was complicated. Rory, it is my job to put aside my feelings for you and do what's best for London. That is the oath I took. And every day I'm with you, that becomes harder and harder to do."

"Doing what's best for London means killing me! Is that what you want? Will you let them do that?"

"No! Absolutely not. There has to be another way. We can't lose the Eye of Isis, but…"

"But?"

His eyes finally met mine now. "I can't lose you."

Before I could breathe, he was right up against me, bending down, his lips hovering just over mine, but I pushed him back.

"Don't," I begged, and he backed away as though I'd slapped him. "I just… I need time. I don't know if I can trust you, Stephen. You've lied about so much. You've hidden so much. Please, if you care about me like you say you do… then go."

"What?"

"Go. Just leave and let me think."

"Rory," he argued, "we just got you back. I'm not leaving."

"Stephen, go," I bit out between my teeth. I couldn't have him kissing me right now or comforting me or looking at me with those intense eyes. I had to sort through this, to determine if Stephen was the bad guy or not. If I could believe him.

"Rory," he called again, his feet firmly planted in front of me.

"Leave!"

This time, I yelled it, making him jump. The pain on his face was so great that I felt it too, punching through my chest. But he backed away, moving until he was through the door.

My legs could no longer hold me up. I was a heap on the floor as the tears finally broke free. The sobs were so great that I could barely breathe and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep from breaking apart.

And then there were other arms holding me together.

Looking up, I saw Boo, staring down at me, and I fell against her, crying into her shirt. My mouth floundered open a few times before I realized that my throat was too tight to explain.

"It's okay," Boo assured me. "You don't have to tell me. Just let it out."

So I did. I cried and cried until my entire body was exhausted and my butt was numb from the floor. And still the tears came.

"I just… I can't breathe," I huffed out eventually, holding onto Boo for dear life. "I can't breathe, Boo, and it feels like I'm gonna die."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Stare Straight into my Soul

I did not die. This was both relieving and upsetting.

I did, however, find myself curled up on Thorpe's couch eating ice cream the next day, watching bad soap operas while Boo and Callum sat on either side of me on the couch. Stephen had kept his distance from me, but he was still close by. Apparently, he'd been sitting on the park bench beside the building most the day. Callum had told me that their flat had been broken into and that it was clear Hobbs and Winchester had found the dysfunctional piece of the Eye of Isis that Stephen had hidden in his closet. This news certainly didn't lift my spirits.

Neither did the news that some bartender from the club I was abducted from had called the police, letting them know that I was still in London and in trouble. The only reason I'd been handling this hiding out from my parents thing so well was because I'd let them know I was okay. Yes, they'd still been worried and probably furious with me, but now? They must be out of their minds with worry.

But there was nothing I could do about that at the moment. Going back to my parents would just bring my troubles right to their door. Instead, I decided to focus on a problem that I could actually deal with.

"Did you talk to him," I finally asked. It was the first time I'd spoken since they'd sat on the couch.

"Uh, yeah, we did," Callum began, hesitant. Beside him, Boo's hands tightened into fists, her anger evident. "He explained everything. About the Shadow Cabinet, his involvement. All of it."

"He did?"

"I can't believe he's been hiding this from us all along," Boo finally yelled, her fists punching the sofa cushions. "We've been his closest friends, his family, and he never once tells us he's been working for these people!"

"I think that's kind of the rules of a secret organization. He couldn't tell us, Boo," Callum defended.

"And you just accept that?"

"He's always hidden things, and we've always accepted it. It's just who Stephen is. And I know he wasn't involved in any plan to hurt Rory. You know it too."

"How do you know," I piped up, nearly dropping my ice cream. I'd barely slept last night, my head spinning in circles over this very question.

"Come on, Rory, he loves you. We all know it. He's loved you since Wexford. Since the Ripper. Probably from the moment he met you."

My mouth dropped open, my lips parted like a fish, but I couldn't remember how to close it. Oh, how I desperately wanted his words to be true. "How do you know that? Did he tell you?"

"He didn't have to. It was dead obvious," Boo acknowledged. "He never lets anything distract him from his job, but after he met you, it was like he couldn't see anything else. He put you first, always."

I could feel my heart leaping wildly in my chest and I had to fight the urge to sit still. Had this been before I was kidnapped – again – I would have begged for endless details. I would have had Boo break down his facial expressions and inquired how many times he said my name in a day. But now I couldn't think of the right questions to ask.

"Yesterday," Callum began, looking hopeful, "you told Thorpe that you could feel Stephen, like his emotions and stuff, because of what you did. Is that true?"

"Yeah. I think I noticed it back when he was… gone. But I didn't understand it. I could feel him everywhere. I was always expecting to turn around and see him standing there… well, I was expecting to see his ghost standing there, but that was the connection. I could always feel him because he was with me. Inside me, I guess. And I know how crazy that sounds, but when I was with Sid and Sadie, there were times I could feel Stephen so clearly… feel how worried he was… and I could talk to him, in my head. It's real."

After this irrational explanation, Boo and Callum just stared at me, clearly waiting for me to say something that made sense. Or maybe they were waiting for something else.

"Show me," Callum insisted, moving to stand by the windows. "Talk to him. Tell me what he's feeling."

"Callum…"

"I'm serious, Rory. I want to see it."

"I… I can't." Apparently, I couldn't sit still anymore either. Jumping from the couch I moved to the kitchen to put the ice cream away. "You weren't there, Callum. You don't know what they said. Hobbs seemed absolutely certain that Stephen was completely on their side. That he would be fine with what they were doing. And Stephen didn't exactly say that he was done with the Shadow Cabinet. When I open that connection… I can feel him, Callum. I can feel everything and I have to let him inside me to do it. I just don't think I can be that close to him right now."

"No," Callum argued, stomping over to me while Boo watched with wide eyes. "You're stalling because you're scared. I know you love him, Rory. He told me what you said. And the thought of him hurting you is worse than if it was anyone else. It's killing you inside not to know the truth, but you can know that! You can reach inside of him and pull the truth out for yourself. So do it."

"You want to know, too. For yourself," I accused. And I could see the pain and fear I felt reflected back in his eyes.

"He's my best friend. I've been closer to him, and Boo… and even you, than I have to anyone else my entire life. And if it turns out that he is lying, that he'll hand you over to those freaks and let you be killed… don't think for a second that you'll be the only one hurting. Yeah, I love him like he was my own brother and I want to know that I can trust him."

My eyes roamed from Boo to Callum for a moment, letting this really sink in. This was something only I could do, and apparently, it had to be done. And Callum was right, I needed to know if Stephen was telling the truth. We needed to know.

"Okay," I allowed, finally, and closed my eyes, searching for that link that would take me to Stephen.

He was there immediately.

And he was upset. Very upset. He was still outside the building, and Thorpe was there with him. Stephen had told him the truth too, about his alliance with the Shadow Cabinet and all the lying he'd been doing. Thorpe wasn't taking it well. In fact, he was discussing the prospect of kicking Stephen off the team.

 _Stephen_ , I called out, and I could feel his surprise.

 _Rory?_

 _I need to know, Stephen._ And that was all I really needed to say. Linked like this, he knew exactly what I meant. At first, he was hesitant. I could feel his fear to open up, the fear of rejection, that he wouldn't be accepted. He'd never been accepted before – with his parents, his school friends. But he could read my emotions too. My love for him… it drowned out even my worry. That seemed to be all it took.

He was furious with the Shadow Cabinet. With Sid and Sadie. He was furious with anyone that had ever tried to hurt me. I could feel his protectiveness, his drive that this never happen to me again. He thought back to the Ripper, to the sound of my voice when I'd offered to take Newman to the last terminus. I could feel his shock at the realization that I would endanger myself further just to save him. I felt his fear when Jane took me, his determination to get me back when he'd driven his car in front of hers. His desolation when Sid and Sadie had taken me from that bar, and given what he knew of the Shadow Cabinet's plans, his urgency that I be found immediately.

And finally, when the last of his barriers came down, I felt his love for me. How it consumed him like nothing ever had before. How it drove him to keep me safe above merely doing his job. How it filled him with such joy and happiness when he saw me. Filled him with pain at the thought that I'd never want him.

It was every bit as powerful as what I felt for him and once he realized that, he was running. I could feel him coming closer, like we were magnets being pulled together by a force we couldn't fight. I felt his impatience as the elevator took its precious time, and then he was running again, right to the door.

When I opened my eyes, Callum and Boo were staring at me curiously, but instead of explaining, I ran to the door and threw it open.

Stephen was standing there, out of breath but smiling.

"I never took the chance to tell you before," he began, but I cut him off by throwing my arms around him. Every fear, every doubt, every worry – they all fell away as he held me tight. With the connection still open, we were surrounded by a love so intense it blocked out the very world around us. And then…

"Somebody want to fill us in," Boo demanded.

The connection snapped, and I was back safely in my own head. "He's telling the truth," I explained, just as Thorpe reached the doorway.

"I am," Stephen confirmed, his arms loosening, but not letting me go. "And I will tell you everything. Anything you want to know. I would never be a part of something that wanted to harm Rory and I would never betray any of you."

"No more secrets," Callum inquired, the hope clear on his face.

"No more secrets."

Thorpe moved into the kitchen then, placing my now melting ice cream back in the freezer. When he turned, he still wasn't smiling. "We are not done discussing this, Stephen. As your boss with MI5, I'm very disappointed that you've been keeping something this important from the team, but as you're friend… I'm willing to forgive you. But there will be a debriefing and I'll want to know everything."

Stephen nodded, his arm tightening around me for a moment.

"I do hope this isn't a bad time," a voice spoke from the doorway and we all whirled around.

Sid stood there, a devilish smile on his face. "We have quite a lot to discuss, little diamond."

~SoL~

"Well, this is a rather boring place you've got here, and that's me being polite," Sid noted, sitting perfectly at ease in an armchair and glancing around Thorpe's neutral living room.

"How did you find this place," Thorpe demanded, on his feet and glaring like the rest of us. "It's one of the most secure flats in London and it isn't even listed under my name."

"Oh, I had help. Let's just say your team isn't as loyal as you once thought."

Thorpe turned then, glancing at each of us. After Stephen's lies, I wasn't sure he could handle any more betrayal. None of us could. Stephen still held me tight against his side, preparing to either defend me or run with me should Sid make a move, and Boo and Callum were extra tense.

"He's talking about me," I realized suddenly, and every eye in the room was trained on my face. "When he was digging through my head… he must have seen this place."

"It's a good guess," Sid allowed. "But… no, it wasn't you. I was looking for a mystical rock when I was in your head, not tasteless hideouts."

"Then who," Callum demanded, taking a step closer to Sid as his hands tightened into fists.

Sid only smiled wider. "Patience is a virtue. Is that still a saying? So much has changed. And you all seem to be forgetting that it was I who helped Rory escape. Aren't you the least bit curious why I did that?"

"At the moment," Boo piped up, "I'm more curious with whether or not we could render you unconscious and throw you in a jail cell. You have quite a lot of crimes to answer for."

"Well then, allow me to answer that question. It would take no effort at all for me to toss the lot of you out that window where you'd plunge to your deaths. And then who would protect poor Rory?"

"In case you forgot, poor Rory nearly broke your nose," I reminded him, and was rewarded with a smirk from Stephen.

Sid's smile grew as well, and he seemed ready to launch back into the conversation when there was a timid knock on the door. At first, no one moved. All eyes were focused on Sid, wondering if he'd brought back-up with him after all, but his face gave nothing away. Finally, Thorpe grabbed a knife from the block in the kitchen and threw the door open.

Freddie stood behind it.

My first instinct was to yell at her to run… until I saw her eyes. They moved straight to Sid, but held no fear. Only resignation.

"It was you," I stated, feeling my anger rise. "You've been working with them this whole time!"

Slowly, Freddie nodded, moving into the apartment and shutting the door behind her. I heard Boo gasp and Callum's muttered, "I knew it."

Frantically, I thought back to all of Freddie's past behavior, baffled that we could have missed this. She had led us to Clover, who had in turn given us details that had led us to Charlotte where she was stored away in that house. It had been Freddie's research that had led us to the Oswulf stone, which Jane had desperately needed. When I'd told her how I felt Stephen was lying to me, she'd been quick to agree it was possible. And at Stephen's birthday party… all those unpleasant looks every time Stephen and I held hands or danced… she had already known that he was working with the Shadow Cabinet… that he knew their plans.

"Please, just let me explain," Freddie began, but Thorpe cut her off.

"All this time! You've been double crossing us all this time. When we first met you… and you knew all those things about Jane…" But he couldn't seem to continue, his face turning red and his hands shaking. It was the closest I'd ever seen to Thorpe losing control. Sid, meanwhile, looked as though he were watching a rather enjoyable play.

"I didn't have a choice," she began, beseeching us all to believe her.

"You better explain fast," Boo demanded. "I don't know how much longer I can resist the urge to hit you."

Freddie took a deep breath, and then said something none of us were expecting. "I have a brother."

"Had a brother," Stephen corrected. "I did a full background check on you. Your brother, Kyle… he died three years ago."

"No he didn't."

We all waited with baited breath for her to continue. Nervously, she started pacing the floor, steering clear of Sid who she refused to make eye contact with. "Kyle was sick. He had a brain tumor, and he was dying. My mother had been going through doctors, demanding second opinions, third opinions. Everyone said all we could do was make him comfortable. When he was given three months to live, she started looking elsewhere… and she had me help. We traveled, speaking with psychics and witches and any other mystic we could find. We visited magic shops and read books until our eyes burned. And then…"

"You met Elias," I finished for her, and I could see the tears brimming her eyes now.

"Everyone else we'd talked to had been scam artists. But he was the real thing. He promised he could save him, began explaining the mysteries and Demeter and his friends. But he said there was a catch. He could perform the ritual to heal him, but he couldn't wake him up. And then he explained about the Enlightened. A person possessing the power of the stone. He told me… he said that if I helped him find such a person… my brother would wake as good as new."

"You were playing us all along," Callum growled. "I knew it."

"I was just trying to save my brother! Kyle did the mysteries, did everything Elias asked us to do, but he's still asleep and I need you, Rory. You're the only one who can save him!"

Stephen's arm tightened around me and I was certain I'd never seen him look so pissed. "Rory's not taking part in any of this!"

"That is where you're wrong," Sid piped up. "Unless you honestly believe you can hide her away for the rest of her life. Elias has spies in places you'd never suspect. He'll always find her."

"Then we fight him," Callum decided, stepping forward and glaring daggers at Sid.

"And he'd kill you in less than a minute. The little diamond and her protector saw what my sister and I are capable of. Elias is older and stronger. And also rather insane. Once he's killed all of you, he'll force Rory to perform the ritual again, which will result in her death."

The air in the room was suddenly heavy. I couldn't suck it into my body. I'd been told that they would kill me after the ritual so the power of the Eye of Isis could go back into the diamond, but they'd never said how. Not that it mattered, really. If it got to that point, there'd be no saving me anyway.

"But… I survived the ritual last time. I was tired for a few days, but nothing–," I began, but Sid cut me off.

"Last time you were only waking three people. This, waking the hundreds of sleeping souls down in that basement, will take every ounce of your strength. It will kill you. In fact, the power inside you is already killing you."

Stephen glanced at me for half a second, and I could feel the slight twinge of fear through the mostly closed bond. "What do you mean," he demanded.

"Oh, I'm sure you've noticed the toll it's taken on her when she destroys a ghost. The power of Isis is too great for anyone to stand for long, and she's accelerated the process by saving you. It would likely kill her in the next year anyway. Elias just plans on speeding that up."

"That's enough," Thorpe all but shouted. "You need to leave. Both of you." This last demand was directed at Freddie, who flinched. "If you've come here to scare us, mission accomplished, but we will not be handing Rory over to you. So unless you plan on killing all of us, leave now!"

At this, Sid actually laughed as though Thorpe were a toddler throwing a tantrum. Standing from the chair, he made his way over to the bookcase, running his fingers gingerly over the bindings. Stephen and Callum both tensed, clearly unsure if jumping Sid now would be a good move or a deadly one.

"I had a feeling you might say that," Sid admitted, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling down the screen. "Hope you don't mind, but I took out a sort of insurance policy."

With that, he held his phone up for us to see. I couldn't stop the widening of my eyes.

"Jazza," I gasped, staring at the picture of her tied up in a small room. Her eyes were wet with tears. "What did you do to her?!"

"Oh, nothing yet. She's merely in safe keeping until I'm certain you've agreed to my terms. You see a large part of my plan involves keeping Rory safe until the proper time. I can't do this myself or Sadie and Elias will get suspicious."

"She's not performing that ritual for you," Stephen shouted, though I had to disagree. If Jazza's life was on the line, there wasn't much he couldn't force me to do.

"If everything works out, she'll only have to wake three people, a feat that should leaving her breathing. I promise you, it's the only shot she'll have. You run out that door with her and Elias finds her, she's as good as dead."

I turned my gaze to Stephen and I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to sort this out. He knew as well as I did that what Sid was saying was true. Hiding me had never worked. Not with Newman or Jane or Sid and Sadie. Elias would find me eventually. But siding with Sid was the same as a deal with the devil.

"Why," Boo asked, breaking the uneasy silence. "Why do you want to help us save Rory?"

"I don't care the least bit about saving Rory," Sid admitted, his lips turning up in a sly smile. "Not that she isn't pretty and sweet. But, since our awakening, I've begun to doubt whether or not I can truly trust Elias."

"You think an evil mastermind might actually stab you in the back. Shocking," Callum quipped.

"Elias doesn't trust easily. He lets very few people into his inner circle. Those friends of his from the 1600s, the people he's trying to wake, those are his family. The rest of us are just a means to an end. I've seen it in his eyes. He needs Sadie and I until the ritual is complete. After that, he'll have no reason not to kill us."

"I thought you couldn't die," Boo inquired. "Wasn't that the purpose of killing all your friends to gain immortality?"

"Oh, I am immortal and I heal rapidly… but there are some things even I won't come back from."

"Well that sounds like justice to me," Callum chuckled. "If it wasn't for Rory's part in this, I'd be cheering Elias on."

"What is your plan exactly," Stephen cut in. I knew his brain was turning over theory after theory, cataloging all the risks.

Sid's smile widened and he took a single step closer to us. "I plan to kill him first."

"And you plan to use Rory for that."

"I told you, he's older and stronger... and a few cards shy of a full deck. I need an extra advantage and Rory can help me get it. It will all be explained soon."

"But you will save my brother," Freddie demanded, her voice slightly hysterical. "Please, that's all I ask."

"Yes," Sid acknowledged, rolling his eyes. "Your dear brother will be returned to you in thanks for your help."

"This is my ability we're talking about. What makes you think I'll wake up anyone," I asked, my anger growing.

"Now Rory, are you honestly going to look Freddie in the eye and tell her you won't save her brother? Besides, Elias thinks she's on his side. We can still use her."

Boo started in with another question, but Sid's attention was drawn to his phone. "We'll have to save this round of twenty questions for later," he insisted. "Right now, I need you lot out of this building."

"You're trying to kick me out of my own flat," Thorpe asked incredulously.

"Like I said, I need Sadie and Elias to think I'm still on their side. I was sent out to look for Rory and I plan on telling them that Freddie's word puts you here. When they arrive, you need to be gone. And don't go back to the other flat. Keep her hidden and safe. Somewhere no one will look. Freddie's going with you and she'll be my contact. I'll be in touch soon."

Freddie look extremely uncomfortable with this set of conditions, but there seemed to be no time to argue. Without further discussion, Stephen began leading me out the door with the others on our heels.

"So we're just trusting him now," Callum began as soon as we were all crowded in the elevator, but Stephen just shook his head, indicating now was not the time for questions. Stephen's arm was still wrapped tightly around me, his thumb gently stroking my shoulder. I think it was the only thing keeping me from slipping into hysterics. Freddie cowered in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible.

It wasn't possible for us all to pile into Thorpe's car, so we had no choice but to split up for the time being. Stephen directed me to his car with Callum in tow and Boo shoved Freddie into Thorpe's backseat, glaring daggers at her freckled face.

"Please tell me we're not trusting that creep," Callum continued as Stephen sped down the road.

Stephen's face was grim. "Absolutely not. But he does have a point. We can't hide Rory forever."

"We need a better plan," I whispered, my voice shaking along with my body. Though Boo had brought my clothes over earlier, they'd all been left back at the loft and my thin sweater didn't do much against the cold.

Stephen shot me a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror and maneuvered his police jacket off, tossing it to me. "You're right. We'll talk about that soon."

And just like that, I was once again on the run.

 **A/N** : Just so you know, I do actually like Freddie. I've just never trusted her. Her showing up when she did just seemed too coincidental. Anyone else feel this way?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Just a warning, this chapter gets a little steamy!

Chapter 12: What I've Tasted of Desire

"I say we ditch Freddie," Callum said as Boo promptly threw the remote across the room.

Honestly, I had no clue where we were, just some hotel outside of London. It felt like we'd been in the car forever when darkness fell and Thorpe checked us all in to this dingy little place. He'd used a credit card registered in a fake name so there was no chance of anyone tracing it back to him and he'd gotten us three separate rooms, though, at the moment, everyone except Freddie was crowded into the room I was sharing with Stephen – as he refused to let me out of his sight.

"We can't do that," Boo disagreed, flinging herself back on the bed. "If we decide to go with Mr. Psychopath's plan, we'll need her."

"Got something better in mind," I asked, cringing at my sharp tone. I'd barely slept the night before and had never truly recovered from my torture session. Being dead on my feet wasn't doing wonders for my attitude.

"Please tell me," Callum began, moving to tower over me from where I was sitting on the bed, "that you aren't actually considering working with _him_!"

"If it means–"

"I think we should discuss this in the morning," Stephen shouted, cutting me off. From the way he was rubbing his eyes, I guessed he was as exhausted as I was.

"I agree with Stephen," Thorpe chimed in. "Things have happened so fast that none of us can think right now. We'll meet up in the morning."

"Okay, but one question," Callum inserted. "Who has to room with Freddie?"

Freddie had not been invited to our strategy meeting and was currently sulking in one of the other rooms.

"I'll do it," Boo decided. "I'm the one least likely to kill her in her sleep."

With that, they all strode out the door… leaving Stephen and I alone in a hotel room.

Stephen collapsed on the bed beside mine, running his hands through his hair. I couldn't help but go back to the night of his birthday party… lying beside Stephen with his lips making their way down my neck, across my stomach…

But no matter how badly my body wanted to simply pick up where we'd left off, there was one face my mind couldn't let go of.

"Jazza," I whispered, pulling my knees up to my chest. "We have to save her. We can't let them hurt her like they did Charlotte. Stephen… we have to save her!" Somewhere near the end of my rant my voice had started to shake and I could feel the wetness on my cheeks from the tears I hadn't realized I'd begun crying. "She's my best friend."

"I know, and we won't let anything happen to her. I promise," Stephen insisted, climbing off his bed and coming to sit beside me on mine. His thumb gently wiped away my tears and he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. "We'll find a way out of this, we always have. We'll save her, Rory."

"She shouldn't be involved in this. She should get to go to class and study German and play her cello. Not get kidnapped by some supernatural freak. He took her because of me. Everything she's been through… it's all been because of me."

I couldn't hold back the sobs any longer and I buried my face in Stephen's shirt. He let me cry, running his hand through my hair and holding me close. The wind had picked up outside and was battering against the windows and the heating unit hardly worked in this rundown hotel, but snuggled up beside of Stephen, I was warm and after several minutes, I finally got myself under control enough to breathe.

"This isn't your fault," Stephen whispered, his lips grazing my ear as he spoke. "Sid is the one who took Jazza, not you. And we will get her back. The only thing you're guilty of is being the bravest person I've ever known."

Tilting my head up, his face was just inches from mine. It wouldn't take any effort to raise up and close those couple inches between our lips, and I wanted to… I really wanted to kiss him. To let him comfort me and forget for the moment all the problems we were facing. His eyes were locked on mine, his head tilting down, but just as I felt his breath fan across my lips, I pulled back.

"Um…," I started, trying to think of something to say, but the hurt was already there on his face.

"Rory, I'm so sorry. If I could take it back… if I could tell you the truth from the beginning, I would. I'm sorry."

"I know. And I understand. I just… I don't know if…"

What I didn't know was how to explain what I was feeling at this moment. It was all too much. The love was still there, strong as always, if not stronger. But there was also betrayal and anger and confusion. And guilt that I was clearly hurting him and desire because he just looked so darn sexy in the light of the lamps and fear that Elias would find us and we'd both be dead by morning!

His lips were on my forehead, just the lightest of touches. "You don't have to explain," he said. "But there's something I want to tell you. Something I need to tell you. Something… I've wanted to tell you for a very long time."

There was resolve in his eyes and tenderness and I was suddenly on pins and needles, waiting for his next words. My heart was beating so fast in my chest I thought it would explode and my natural tendency to babble away the nervousness was back in full force.

"Rory… I love you. I'm not very good at expressing my feelings, or talking about them or even acknowledging them… but this is the strongest thing I've ever felt. I didn't think I could feel this." His hand came up then, touching my face. I felt a single tear leak out of my eyes and run down his finger. "Nothing is going to happen to you. Understand? Nothing."

"Stephen," I started, but he placed a finger over my lips, cutting me off.

"I know you need time, Rory. I hurt you and you need time to deal with that. I just wanted you to know that I'll wait. I'll wait for the rest of my life if I have to." The thought was there, that I might not have that long to wait - if Sid's words were to be believed - but I couldn't voice it.

And with that, he pulled the covers up to my chin, sliding off my bed. "Get some sleep," he ordered. "I have no idea what happens tomorrow, so rest while you can."

Dutifully, I closed my eyes, though I was certain sleep wouldn't come. My brain was spinning in confusing circles involving Stephen and crazy rituals and Jazza's comforting voice. But my body finally overrode my brain and exhaustion claimed me.

But peaceful oblivion didn't.

I immediately fell into a nightmare, but not a Sid-induced one. I was back in the basement with Elias, surrounded by the sleeping bodies of his friends. The candles were lit now and the air was heavy with incense. Looking down, a white gown flowed down my body, covering my bare feet and blood was dripping down my arm.

"I am so eager to meet them," Elias sighed, smiling down at the people on the floor. "It has been so long. Are you ready?"

This last question was directed at me and when I looked up, his face was inches from mine. His eyes held a wild glow that had me shrinking back.

"Sorry, but I'm gonna have to pull the brakes on this train full of crazy," I quipped, though my voice was shaking. The stairs were behind me and I somehow knew that if I made it up them, I'd be free. Taking a hesitant step back, I turned, preparing to run… and tripped over one of the sleeping bodies.

It was a body I knew.

"Jazza," I breathed, my throat thick with tears.

She was so pale, even her lips white, and her skin felt like ice. Dead, she was dead! But no, she couldn't be dead! Not Jazza. Not my tea-drinking, Pride and Prejudice reading friend. And then my eyes landed on the body beside her… and the one beside that… and the one beside that.

All my friends. Boo, Callum, Thorpe, Freddie, Jerome… even my parents and friends from back home. All dead and laid out on the cold floor like some pagan offering.

And when I looked behind me…

"Stephen," I shouted, and the sobs consumed me as I stared down at his lifeless face.

"We can still save them, Rory," Elias explained, standing over me. "You can save all of them. You just have to do your part."

"I'll die. I'll die if I do it!"

"And they will die if you don't!"

Frantically, I began shaking Stephen, calling out for Boo, begging my parents to open their eyes. In that moment, I knew I would trade anything to save them. To have them safe.

"Stephen," I begged. "Please wake up! Please!"

The fear must have been too much for my mind, because in the next moment, I was shooting straight up in bed.

Tears were still cascading down my face and it took a moment for me to catch my breath. Surprisingly, I hadn't woke Stephen. He was tranquil in his bed, breathing softly as he slept. His cheeks were flushed, his eyelids twitching in his sleep, and his chest rising and falling. It was all in contrast with the lifeless version from my dream. It had reminded me of the very real moment that Stephen had… died.

Wiping furiously at my tears, I refused to let that happen again. I would not lose Stephen again! I wouldn't!

It was only three in the morning, but there was no way I was falling back asleep. So I watched Stephen… and his earlier words came back to me.

 _Rory… I love you._

Stephen loved me. He'd actually said it! He loved me! Pushing the nightmare from my mind, I allowed a goofy smile to spread across my face. _This_ was what I wanted to focus on right now. The fact that Stephen not only loved me as much as I loved him, but was willing to admit it out loud. Thinking of how I'd almost lost him… it made my anger at him for his betrayal seem less than important.

He was right, we had no idea what would happen tomorrow. But tonight, I was here with Stephen and he loved me!

Quietly as I could, I crossed the small space to his bed and slid in beneath the covers, right up against his very warm side. I hadn't realized just how cold I'd been.

"Rory," Stephen groaned, his eyes half open and his arm instantly coming up to wrap around my waist. "Are you alright?"

"You told me I could wake you up if I had a nightmare, remember?"

It took a moment, but he smiled then, his eyes opening fully. "What was it about," he asked, his hand coming up to stroke my hair and I snuggled closer to him.

"Let's just say it was bad, but it put a lot of things in perspective."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes were focused right on mine now, and our faces were only inches apart. Hesitantly, I reached up, running my hand up his cheek and into his hair. It was as soft as I remembered it. "It reminded me that anything can happen and being angry is stupid."

"It is?"

"Uh-huh. And I'm tired of being angry with you. I'd rather just kiss you."

I'll never forget how his eyes filled with wonder at that moment, as though he couldn't fully believe his ears. How his lips tipped up in a smile, a real smile, as he pulled me closer…

And then he crushed his lips to mine.

It was all fire and intensity at first, as though if we waited one more moment, we would both combust. My leg came up around his waist and he was pressing me into the bed. His lips left my mouth, only to kiss my cheek, my neck, my collarbone. His hand was running up under my sweater, tracing my scar and running circles over my back. Raising my arms, I let him pull my shirt off, and then his lips were back on mine, consuming me.

I opened the link just a tiny bit… and was nearly crushed by the force of our emotions combining. All the love and longing. I felt the happiness in me welled up as I realized he wanted this just as much as I did. He wanted me.

It wasn't until his shirt was off and I was working on his belt that he spoke up. "Are you sure, Rory? We can stop here. We don't have to–"

But I brought my fingers to his lips, shutting him up.

"I have never, ever been as sure as I am right now. I am 110% sure. 200% sure. So sure that–"

He cut me off this time, chuckling softly against my lips. "Just checking."

We kissed slowly, savoring each moment. I ran my hands down his chest, his stomach, his hips. I drug my lips down the light trail of hair that ran from his chest to his boxers. And he never stopped touching me. He held me so tight sometimes I feared I'd have bruises, and sometimes, he was so gentle that I felt like fine china. And we laughed. My teeth would accidentally graze his lip or he'd run his fingers over just that right spot on my hip that tickles and we'd smile and laugh and kiss some more.

And when we came together, despite the desire that was eating us both up in that moment… he was gentle and patient. It hurt at first, and he waited until I was breathing again before he moved. But it felt so right and perfect. And incredible! I had never experienced bliss like this. It was better than Cheese Whiz and chocolate and silk sheets. A hundred times better than I had ever imagined.

It was me telling Stephen that I was his, that I would always be his and he promising the same in return.

I was certain Boo or Callum or everyone heard me cry out when I reached that highest point of pleasure and Stephen laughed against my neck, the sound reverberating through my body. When we finally both came back down to earth, Stephen kept me curled tightly against his side, his lips still lightly kissing my forehead.

"Wow. That was… wow," I exclaimed, for once at a loss for words. "Was it wow for you too, or is it not the same for a guy? Did it feel like being electrocuted, but in a good way? And now everything's all Jello-like. You know? Nothing wants to move the same… but it all feels amazing. And I thought it would be embarrassing to lay here naked beside someone, but that someone is you and it just feels right and comfortable and wonderful, and the fact that you're lying here naked beside me makes me want to do it again, but I don't think I can get my body to move right now. You know what I mean?"

I felt more than heard Stephen laugh as his lips kissed the top of my head. His fingers were trailing down my bare arm, igniting that desire again.

"Should I be quiet," I asked, realizing that maybe I was ruining the moment. "I should shut up, shouldn't I? People don't babble after sex."

"I like it when you babble," Stephen told me, and then I was kissing him again.

Time lost all meaning for those next, amazing couple of hours. It was just Stephen and I wrapped up in a sheet. The world fell away; nothing existed outside of this hotel room. My life might be falling apart, with my parents upset and searching for me and Jazza in danger and Sid on his way to force us to do something that will likely be terrible… but right now, it was just me and Stephen and our love.

And then the world came crashing back with a single knock on the door.

"Oi, open up you two," Boo shouted, and I was extremely thankful we'd remembered to lock the door this time.

We both broke apart, a little dazed, and Stephen nearly fell off the bed. "Clothes. We need clothes," he muttered, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"We could tell her we need ten more minutes," I joked as I hastily pulled on my underwear. He just shot me a withering look. It was pretty cute to see Stephen like this, all flustered and blushing while he stuffed his long legs into his pants. His hair was in wild disarray on his head from where my fingers had ran through it and his lips were swollen from all the kissing. And on his neck…

"That, um… might take some explaining," I chuckled, and he stared at me in confusion. He was adorable when he was confused.

In answer to his look, I pointed to his neck and he rushed into the bathroom to examine the hickie I'd left just under his ear.

"How… uh… that," but before he could finish his non-sentence, there was another round of furious knocking on the door.

"Do you want the coffee to get cold," Boo demanded. "Yes, Rory, I said coffee."

After one last check to make sure we were both decent, I threw the door open to see a very annoyed Boo.

"Took you long enough," she muttered. "You do realize I just spent the night with our traitor. And she never shuts up. She's worse than you, Rory."

"Hey!"

"Seriously, she just went on and on about how she was doing this for the right reasons and what would I do if it were my brother and no matter how many pillows I threw at her face, she just kept going."

She sat the drink carrier down with a little more force than necessary and some of the liquid sloshed out. Reaching down, she handed me a cup that was a little taller than the others. "Coffee for you and Thorpe. The rest are teas."

Wrapping my hands around the warm styrofoam, I took a moment to inhale the rich aroma before I took a sip… and sighed with pleasure – a sound I'd made several times last night. It was then that Stephen walked out of the bathroom, frantically trying to pull the neck of his shirt up higher.

"Where are the others? We need to discuss our options," he said, taking one of the teas Boo offered him.

"They're on their way. Thorpe is getting breakfast and I think Callum is in the shower. And Freddie could have drowned in the toilet for all I care."

"Boo," Stephen chastised.

"Sorry."

Boo, holding her own tea, paused mid-sip when Stephen turned his head, eyeing his neck.

"Is one of these teas for Freddie," Stephen inquired, and at Boo's reluctant head nod, he grabbed one. "I'll take it to her. I think its time she and I had a talk."

He walked out with a determined look of fury… and then a very curious Boo was staring at me.

"You do realize your shirt is on backwards, right," she asked, a crooked smile turning up her lips. "Please tell me you guys took advantage of having this hotel room to yourselves."

I could feel the blush lighting up my cheeks and Boo's smile widened. Running to the door, I checked to make sure Stephen was definitely gone.

"We did," was all I said, and then Boo pounced on me.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it," she shouted, squeezing me tight. "I knew you'd forgive him and make up. Oh, you guys are perfect together. I mean, you argue and disagree all the time, but you bring out the good in each other, you know. You calm him down when he gets too serious and remind him to have fun and he settles you when you go all hyper-squirrel on cough syrup."

"Hyper-squirrel on cough syrup?"

"You know what I mean. You get excited – not that it's a bad thing – and sometimes you act before you think. He reminds you to think."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But… more importantly… he told me he loves me."

It was such a quiet admission that I wasn't sure she'd heard me, but she squeezed me harder before finally letting me go. "He finally said it! Took him long enough. I'm so happy for you guys!"

Taking my hand, she pulled me to the bed.

"So, tell me everything. Did you go all the way? How was it? Details," she demanded.

"Boo! I can't… I…"

"Oh, fine. Don't tell me that. You're face gave it away anyway." I blushed harder. "Tell me this then, yeah. When did you first fall in love him?"

This question took me by surprise. I honestly hadn't thought about it, about that first moment. "I think it was gradual, you know. Like every time I saw him, he crept into my heart a little more. And then he… died. And I realized that I was already in love with him and I realized just how much I'd really lost… or thought I'd lost. But even before that, I'd thought about him all the time. I found myself wondering what he'd be doing if he were with me or how he'd handle a situation. When something ghosty happened, he was always the first person I wanted to call, even if it wasn't an emergency. And when I'm with him… I always know I'll be safe. I remember realizing that after I got back from Bristol, and I was seeing Stephen for the first time in weeks. After the Ripper… I only truly felt safe around Stephen."

"Wow," Boo whispered, and I looked up to see a knowing smile on her face.

"What about you and Callum," I asked, feeling the desperate need to switch share time to her.

"I guess on the outside it doesn't make sense," she began. "I know we argue a lot. We completely disagree on the treatment of ghosts. You remember how I told you I used to be a party girl, before my accident." I nodded. "Well, that was maybe putting it lightly. My family has always been well off – not wealthy, but comfortable – and I was always free to do what I wanted. Nothing was serious, ever. I didn't deal with drama or responsibility. Life was about non-stop fun. And then I nearly died… and everyone still treated me like this air-headed junkie who'd had everything handed to her. I'd never realized how people really saw me. How careless and reckless I'd been. And then I decided to take life more seriously, but no one would take _me_ seriously. It was like they all thought it was just an act and once I got it out of my system, I'd be back to Jello-shots. No one took me seriously… until Callum and Stephen."

I couldn't help but smile, thinking of just how central Boo really was to the team. She didn't resemble that party girl she used to be in the slightest. The voice of reason when Callum became too upset and the one who kept them all from getting too serious when things got heavy. The one who held me up when my world was at its darkest.

"They treated me like an adult from the beginning," she continued. "But it was Callum who really opened up to me. He told me how he got the sight, but he also let me see just how vulnerable he was. It was a side of him he never shows, but he showed it to me. No one ever shared real problems with me because they didn't think I cared. But he saw that in me. That drive to help people, even the ones he doesn't consider people. He understood me in a way that no one else ever has. It was then, that moment when he told me about being electrocuted. His voice was shaking a little and his eyes were haunted, you know. It was then that I fell in love with him."

"He told me what happened that night," I spoke up, remembering the day after Stephen's birthday. It felt like a lifetime ago. "You and him…"

Now it was Boo's turn to blush. "It was amazing," she gushed. "We were drunk, but not that drunk. I saw it in his eyes. Something changed. He really cares about me, I know it. But… with everything that's happened…"

"You didn't really get to capitalize on that moment," I guessed, feeling a little guilty that my being kidnapped interrupted their love story, even if there was nothing I could do about that.

"It's alright. We'll get this sorted first, yeah. Then Callum and I can talk."

"Or maybe not talk," I hinted suggestively, and Boo smiled wider.

And then the door flew open.

"We need to talk, now," Stephen insisted as he burst into the room, with Freddie, Callum, and Thorpe behind him. "Sid is on his way here."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I would like to apologize for being such a negligent fanfic writer! (commences groveling) Once my kids were released from school for the summer, we have been crazy busy. I promise to be more dedicated now! Promise, promise, promise! I believe I have about five chapters to go after this one and I will try to upload them in a timely manner! Again, so sorry!

Chapter 13: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

The room was in chaos. Was that a poem? It could be the start of a poem. It was also possible that my brain had been overloaded by this point and was trying drastically to leave the situation at hand.

"I'm telling you, we should take Rory and run! Now," Callum shouted, his hands curling into fists.

"But you don't even know his plan yet," Freddie argued, and quickly shut her mouth at the death glare aimed at her. I honestly felt a little sorry for her. She was doing this for her brother, after all.

"And I don't think we should wait around to hear it!"

"Callum, there's still Jazza to think about," Stephen put in, quieting Callum for the moment.

It was barely six-thirty in the morning and Sid would walk through that door any minute and we still didn't have a plan of action.

"Stephen's right," I said. "We can't just run. Not when he has Jazza. And his plan might be the only way out of this mess."

But Callum was still shaking his head. "We have the police on our side. We can use them to find Jazza. If Sid's plan fails, Elias will kill you Rory! Or am I the only one who remembers that?!"

"I'm already dying!" There. I'd said it. The one thing no one had wanted to mention since Sid had brought it up.

The room was completely silent now and I felt warm tears build in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. It was Stephen who finally moved, stepping right in front of me and taking my hands.

"That was Sid's theory. Not a medical opinion," he insisted, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

"You know it's true, Stephen. The Shadow Cabinet knows it's true. It's why they're in such a hurry to kill me now and put the power back into the stone."

"You are not going to die," he stated, his voice rising and his jaw set in a furious line. "Not at the hand of Elias or from a stupid rock! You are not going to die!"

"Then you better come up with a plan b quickly," Thorpe said from the window. His back was rigid as he looked through the glass. "Because Sid just arrived."

And then the room was silent. Stephen pulled me against his side and Callum stepped in front of us, his brow pulled down in a scowl. The tension was so bad I could feel myself shaking… or maybe that was the fear. I heard the closing of a car door and then after several seconds, a soft knock. It was Freddie who finally moved to open the door.

"Anyone fancy helping me with the luggage," Sid inquired by way of greeting. He was in yet another impeccable suit, this one from our era and looking quite expensive, and his hair was styled into an elaborate mess. His piercing eyes were fixed on me.

"Luggage," Freddie questioned.

"I had to pick up a few things and make sure Elias and Sadie follow a false trail. Now, who wants to offer some muscle?"

After exchanging a loaded glance, Thorpe and Callum stepped up, following Sid outside to his car.

"He's not seriously planning on shacking up in this hotel with us, is he," I asked, unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to the man that had ripped my brain open and dug around in it with a rusty shovel.

Stephen didn't answer, just kept his gaze fixed on the door. I could see ideas chasing themselves in his eyes. He was likely running through every possible scenario in his head and sorting out how to get us out of each of them. Should we all attack Sid at once? Maybe take advantage of this moment and search for a weapon before he comes back into the room? No, Stephen was likely thinking of a much more genius plan than that. Or maybe he was just praying that we didn't all die today.

"Please tell me this is not what I think it is," Callum growled as he struggled back through the door holding a… rug? A very expensive and very heavy rug.

Behind him was Sid with a rug of his own which he flopped down on the floor. Thorpe came last, struggling with his rug and doing an odd crab walk that would have been funny under other circumstances.

"It's exactly what you think it is," Sid answered as Thorpe and Callum sat their loads down in the small room. Sid gave one of the rugs a swift kick and it unrolled across the room, revealing what had been hiding inside.

A body.

Stephen's hold on me was the only thing that kept me from screaming. My eyes closed briefly out of shock, and when I opened them again, I was able to notice a few significant things about the body. It was a male body for starters, with long hair as dark as Stephen's and full lips. He was also wearing very odd, moth-eaten clothing. Instead of pants, he wore breeches and his jacket looked as though it were straight out of every painting I'd ever seen of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

"Allow me to introduce Sir Arthur Kent of His Majesty's army. His Majesty being King George III," Sid explained, smiling devilishly. "You see, in 1765, a group of occultist's stirred unrest in England – at a time when England was already dealing with unrest in the New World. This group was said to be practicing witchcraft and luring vicious wild animals into villages that were attacking women and children. King George sent a small regimen of soldiers to deal with this. Sir Arthur here was the Captain and his friend, Richard Canterbury, accompanied him." At this, Sid pointed to one of the other rugs.

"What they found," he continued, "was Elias Townsend. He was still fruitlessly searching for the key to waking his friends and was quite upset when soldiers came to put a stop to his fun. He killed the lot of them, except for Arthur and Richard. They realized then that what they were dealing with was no ordinary man. They hunted him for three years, until finally they realized that in order to kill him, they would have to be on equal footing with him."

"This is a fascinating history lesson," Boo chimed in. "But do you think you could skip to the point?"

Sid gave a theatrical roll of his eyes. "The point is that their sole purpose is to kill Elias. He killed their friends and they want him dead. They want to kill him so badly that they performed the ritual themselves. The only reason Elias hasn't simply set fire to their bodies is so that he can kill them himself as soon as they wake."

"That accounts for two of the bodies," Stephen noted. "What about the third one?"

In answer, Sid strolled over and carefully unrolled the rug Callum had carried in. Inside lay a boy around my age with shaggy blond hair and a familiar face.

"Kyle," Freddie shrieked, and threw herself down beside the boy.

"Your brother, as promised," Sid said.

"Now that you've introduced everyone, why don't you explain what they're doing here," Thorpe demanded, his face uneasy. His wasn't the only one. I think everyone had pretty much guessed why Sid had snuck these bodies out under Elias' nose.

"Obviously, I want to wake them up."

"Then you've wasted your time bringing them here," Stephen said, his voice quiet but holding a sinister edge that was instantly terrifying. "If you think we'll just hand Rory over to perform your ritual, you are very much mistaken."

"And you're outnumbered here," Callum noted with a smirk. "You might have the advantage in strength, but together, we can take you."

"Relax," Sid laughed, throwing himself down on the nearest bed and stretching out. "I can ensure that she'll live through it. And don't forget that following my orders is in Jazza's best interest."

"Where is she," I demanded, the sick feeling returning – the one that came on whenever I thought of Jazza in danger.

"She's safe with Jack."

"'Safe with Jack?!' You're kidding."

"Let us talk to her," Stephen insisted. "If you want us to listen to the rest of your plan, let us hear that she's safe and unharmed."

With another roll of his eyes, Sid pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, staring at it as though he were still unsure how such a contraption worked. "Incredible devices, these. Wish they would have had them back in my day." After a ridiculous amount of time searching, he finally dialed a number, holding it to his ear and waiting.

"There you are, Jack," he answered. "Our new friends don't seem to trust us. Why don't you put the little girl on the phone?"

He pressed the speaker button… and then I heard the most wonderful sound.

"Rory," Jazza called out, her voice shaking with tears.

"Jazza, it's me," I assured her, moving from Stephen's side to get closer to the phone. "Are you alright? Are you okay? Please tell me Jack isn't hurting you, or I'll–"

"I'm alright. Just… just scared. This man has just been watching me all day and he won't tell me what's going on or why they have me. Rory, what is all this about?"

"That's enough," Sid exclaimed, and abruptly ended the call. I was overcome with the sudden urge to beat him with his phone. "See, safe and sound. And she'll stay that way as long as you do as I say."

"You want me to do the ritual again," I stated simply. Stephen was at my side again, taking my hand in his.

"Exactly. You will wake the soldiers for me and they will help me take down Elias. I brought Freddie's brother as part of her reward, but that one's up to you."

I turned my gaze to Freddie who gave me the saddest pleading look I'd ever seen.

"But you said before that doing the ritual would kill her, yeah," Boo asked, stepping up by my side.

"It would. But I happen to know a way to make this easier on her. Give her extra strength," Sid explained, letting his sentence hang in the silence. The smile on his face was smug; he knew he had us right where he wanted us. Like I could ignore Jazza being in danger.

"How," Stephen demanded.

"By sending someone with her." At our dumbstruck expressions, he continued. "If someone were to perform the ritual with her, they would be linked to her and could lend her their strength. The power she uses would be shared between the two of them. It would be enough to keep it from killing her."

"Or it could backfire and kill us both," I pointed out. "It's not like you care if I survive this or not. You won't need me after this, so how do we know you're telling the truth?"

"Because I will need you after this."

"Why," Callum inquired with a wry expression. "Have any other comatose friends to wake up?"

"That part of the plan can wait," Sid explained with a wave of his hand. "Right now I need to know if you're willing to wake them."

"Rory, you don't have to do this. We can get Jazza another way," Stephen assured me, bending down to whisper in my ear. And I knew he meant it. I could say the word right now and everyone would attack Sid and if we were extremely lucky to survive that, we could run. Run and run and run forever and hope the cops found Jazza.

Or I could do what I had to in order to save my friends.

"I'll do it." I'd tried to make my voice loud and clear, but it came out shaky and quiet. Sid's smile lit up his face and for just a moment, he seemed like a normal handsome guy.

"Right then," he exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. "We have some things to get in order. And you and Stephen will need to prepare."

"Me and Stephen?" I shot an incredulous look at Stephen, expecting him to be equally confused, but he was merely resigned.

"Of course I'm the one going with you," he said. "I'm not letting you do this alone."

Sid nodded along. "And the link you two already share will make it easier."

My head was spinning more than ever before now and it took a moment for my words to come back to me. I'd assumed that when Sid said someone had to accompany me he'd meant that someone to be him. I didn't think I'd be risking Stephen's life. Stephen, who had already died once! No, I couldn't lose him again. I wouldn't!

"No," I proclaimed, shaking my head and turning to stare into Stephen's serious eyes. "If this doesn't work, we both die. I'm not letting you do this."

"I am doing this." His voice was firm, determined. I knew that voice. There was no arguing with that voice. "I know the risk, but if I don't go with you, you die. That will not happen."

"Of course," Sid broke in, "after all this is over, you'll still need a way to remove the power of Isis from her or it will kill her anyway."

There was laughter in his voice and I saw Stephen's hand tighten into a fist. It was going to be a long day.

~SoL~

It was déjà vu. Bathing in the disgusting river water, again. Dressing in a skimpy dress that didn't nearly hide my assets, again. Only this time, Stephen was along for the ride with me. He'd had to bathe in the Thames water after me and was dressed in a white button down shirt with white dress pants, provided by Sid. I couldn't help but wonder… why white?

Stepping out of the bathroom, I saw that all the furniture had been pushed against the walls and the three bodies were aligned with their feet touching, much like Stephen, Sid, and Sadie had been. Only now there was no Oswulf stone. Instead, a small black stone that was instantly familiar to me was laid down between their feet.

"The souls of all three are contained in this stone, along with those of several others," Sid explained. "You have to make sure that these three are the only ones that make it back. If any of the others wake up back in the basement, Elias will obviously know we're up to something."

"But he somehow didn't notice you taking these three," Boo asked. She, Callum, Thorpe, and Freddie were sitting on one of the beds against the wall.

"These three he doesn't care about and the basement holds hundreds. He shouldn't notice they're missing for a while. Now, are you both ready?"

I turned my head to look to Stephen. His dark hair was striking against all the white and staring into his eyes, I couldn't help but think of last night. Kissing him and holding him and being so close we were nearly one person. I knew I was blushing and his lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. He was thinking of last night too.

"We're ready," I said, taking Stephen's hand and stepping up to the three unconscious people on the floor.

Sid approached me, holding out a knife. "I believe you know this tune."

Taking a deep breath, I held out my arm and Sid cut me, just as before. The blood dripped down onto the black stone and spattered onto Arthur's shoes. It seemed to hurt more this time and I noticed that there was more blood. My mind raced back to the night I'd nearly bled to death at the table, to Stephen carrying me out of the flat and rushing me to the hospital.

"Now, hold out your hands," Sid instructed. This was the only thing so far that had deviated from the original ritual. I extended my right hand and Stephen his left. Sid tied them both together with a gold cord. This, he'd explained, was to keep us linked. If we lost physical contact with each other in the real world, Stephen would be ripped from me and I'd be alone, with all that magic running through me. I was too weak to survive the ritual a second time. I would die.

"And now drink of the _kykeon_ ," Sid ordered, handing me a bowl of the drugged barley/honey mixture.

It was hard to lift a bowl to your mouth while tied to another person, but I managed to drink my share and then hand it to Stephen who had an equally difficult time lifting it to his lips. The effects were immediate and I felt my head swimming.

"See you on the other side," I whispered to Stephen, attempting a goofy smirk, but my eyes were already falling closed.

And then the world fell away. It was just me and Stephen.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thanks to the people that reviewed! Nice to know this story wasn't forgotten!

Chapter 14: Through the Forest I Have Gone

The first thing I became aware of was that the ground was cold and mushy under my bare feet. I could feel the slid of grass between my toes and it reminded me longingly of home. Of lying out in my backyard in June with the sun overhead and my headphones over my ears. I always hoped for a tan, but usually ended up with a nasty sunburn. But this grass was not like Louisiana grass that was always warm and swampy. The ground underneath was firm, the mushiness coming from the light dew that stuck to the blades.

Stephen's hand was still in mine and as soon as the world came into view, I saw his tall figure walking beside me, equally confused.

"This is unexpected," he noted, and it was then that I finally took in our surroundings.

The last time I'd done this, when I was bringing back Stephen, I'd arrived on a normal London street and been led to the American-style diner where Stephen was waiting. But now, we were surrounded by tall trees in an unfamiliar wood and the air was growing unbearably cold.

"Where are we," I asked, moving closer to Stephen for warmth.

"I was mostly hoping you could tell me. I've never been anywhere with this many trees."

"Well, it's not the South, that's for sure."

Keeping me close, Stephen started moving ahead, glancing through the trees for any sign of life. "Well, all the leaves are dead, so at least we know its winter."

"Winter where?"

This brought on a sigh of frustration and Stephen's brow furrowed further. And then I felt it – a pull. I couldn't have explained it, really. It was like an internal compass insisting I walk in a certain direction through the trees and to resist it would be painful.

"This way," I insisted, pulling Stephen after me. He opened his mouth to question this, but shut it in the same second. I could feel it, something passing between us. It was more than just feeling his emotions as I had before. I could feel his essence… or something. His spirit. I knew that if we were to be separated in this world, I could find him again easily – even in an unfamiliar forest in the middle of nowhere.

"So, is now a good time to talk about our relationship," I asked, and Stephen looked at me as if I'd just suggested tap-dancing with an alligator.

"Now? While we're in some alternate reality looking for two two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old soldiers and Freddie's brother?"

"Yes, here. What happened last night… it was important," I explained, staring down at my feet and unable to meet his eyes. "I've never done anything like that before. I've actually never done anything past kissing. And I've never been in love before and no one has ever said they love me… not for real. Like that. And it was the most wonderful thing I've ever felt, and I lost you once and I'm terrified of losing you again. And I'm scared that I'm too intense and I'll ruin this thing we have. And here we are, in Crazyland again and risking our lives and still, none of this is more important than the fact that I love you."

All of that had come out in a rush that I wasn't sure even made sense. I found myself gasping for breath.

Stephen stopped walking and pulled me to a halt… and his hand came up to gently lift my head so he could look me in the eye.

"What we did last night was the most important thing that has ever happened in my life," he stated simply. "I've never had anyone in my life that I thought I couldn't lose. In fact, people deserting me was to be expected. But you…"

His eyes were becoming glassy, the emotion making his voice deeper and my very skin felt electric. Even the pull I felt that was urging me forward seemed to pale in comparison to the love I felt welling in me at that moment.

"You came back for me. You saved me, Rory. Twice. And when I think I could lose you… it's worse than dying. And I can say that for a fact."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but in the next second I was up on my toes and my lips were pressed to his. It was intense – so intense that I think I scared him at first, but he was kissing me back, lifting me off my feet so he could crush me to him and my arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. Screw Arthur and Richard and Kyle. At the moment I didn't care how long it took to find them.

I felt the rough bark of a tree at my back as Stephen pressed me into it and my legs came up to wrap around his waist, causing the dress to hike up to my hips. His lips were demanding and desperate and we couldn't seem to get close enough to each other and just as my hands traveled down to the buttons on his shirt…

I felt pain.

Pain that tore at my gut and nearly made me vomit. I pushed Stephen back… and nearly fell to the ground since he had been the only thing keeping me upright. He caught me, steadying me on my feet as I scanned the woods.

"Something's wrong," I explained. Fear; that was the cause of the pain. "I think there's something… or someone close by. And I think we want to be far away from them."

I took Stephen's hand again, pulling him after me as I ran through the woods. Ran – as much as I hate running. The further we traveled into the trees, the more the pain receded until it was more of a dull ache.

"Sid said there were other souls waiting in the stone," Stephen recalled. "He said to be careful not to wake them up."

"We haven't been sent for them." It was something I was remembering from the last time we were in this position. "When I came to get you, we couldn't escape unless I brought Sid and Sadie back with us as well. I had to return with everyone I'd been sent to get or no one woke up. We've only been sent for three people. Bringing anyone else back goes against Sid's magic I think. Or something like that."

"Then let's find who we're looking for quickly and get out of here."

The pull was still there, growing stronger by the minute, but the never-ending forest was crushing my hopes. It was like a maze that we could wonder for eternity and never find our way out of. Already I'd lost all sense of direction and had no idea where we'd started off at. But just then, the pull intensified, and the trees parted to reveal a small house.

A very small house. In fact, it looked like it was barely one room. As we emerged beside it, we were standing on a dirt road that was lined with several other houses, all equally small. There was a well across the street, one of the old timey things that people used to actually haul water out of. Not the decorative ones people set up in their yards back home. Looking back at the houses, they seemed to be made of material I was completely unfamiliar with and they all had the thatched roofs I'd read about in fairy tales.

"I don't think we need to worry about where we are as much as when we are," Stephen realized, looking in one of the grimy windows.

"Sid did say they were from 1760… something. It looks about right."

"This must have been a village outside of the London city walls."

Hand in hand, we walked down the dirt street, staring at the remnants of lives past. Here and there were handmade shovels and rough wooden toys. Rough-made fences were set up behind some houses that had likely held horses or pigs or whatever animals people had back then. There were barns and a small shack that looked like a flower stand.

Suddenly, Stephen pulled me over to one of the houses that had the front door standing open. When we reached it, I realized it wasn't a house, but a shop of some kind. There was big open fireplace at one end of the room and a long work table covered in random bits of twisted metal.

"Amazing," Stephen sighed in wonder.

"Amazing… because?"

"It's a blacksmith's shop. You don't see them anymore. There's not much use for them, what with factories and such, but this… You see, here… the metal is superheated in the fireplace until it glows and the blacksmith then hammers it into the shape he fancies. They could make all sorts of things. Fire-pokers and horseshoes and decoration. Once he had the metal in the shape he needed, he would dunk it into a bucket of water and it would harden as it cooled."

His eyes were alight with fascination, and I could see the academic in him nearly drooling.

"It is pretty cool that we went back in time," I realized. "Although I kind of prefer central heating."

Stephen laughed one of his rare laughs and squeezed my hand. Then I felt the pain again.

"The others are coming. The one's we don't want to meet," I said, pulling him out of the blacksmith's shop and down the road. "We need to keep moving."

The road twisted, opening out to more houses and small shops. In the distance I could glimpse a vineyard and a few pumpkins sitting atop the cold ground. The pull was very strong now and when my eyes landed on the house at the end of the street, I knew instantly that was our destination.

"In here," I explained to Stephen as I threw open the door and pulled him inside.

We were in a kitchen. A small, but efficient looking kitchen. There were no decorations except for a small pot of flowers on a round table. There was a fireplace in the corner with a large pot hanging over it that smelled enticing. And sitting in one of the homemade chairs was a man I recognized as Arthur Kent.

"You. What are you doing in my home," he demanded, rising from his chair and pulling an ancient-looking pistol from his belt. Stephen immediately pulled me behind him. "You think you can simply go about barging into a person's house like that?"

"We're here to help you," I explained, just as another man stepped into the doorway that seemed to lead to a bedroom. Richard Canterbury. We now had two of the three.

"Who be they," Richard asked in a voice that sounded rough and uneducated.

"Strangers claiming to be here to help us," Arthur said, never lowering his pistol.

"Just listen, please," Stephen reasoned, stepping forward slowly. "We mean you no harm. We are here because of the ritual you performed."

"The ritual…," Arthur moaned, collapsing back into his chair. "That witch… monster… whatever he was. He tricked us."

"Elias Townsend," I asked, and both Arthur and Richard fixed me with hateful stares.

"You know him," Arthur inquired. "One of his friends told us the spell. Told us how to do it. We thought we would come back like him, that we could stop him."

"So many dead," Richard lamented. "He killed so many."

"But his friend tricked us. Now we are stuck here, forever."

I really should have been more sympathetic, but I couldn't stop the eye roll. "If you would listen to us for a second, we're here to save you. We can wake you up."

Finally, Arthur's haunted eyes turned to me… filling with something like hope. They were very green eyes. It was then that I noticed just how young he was. He couldn't be more than twenty-five and Richard beside him looked just as young with his long blond hair and fair skin. So young. And yet, they had been in the King's army. Had led a regimen of soldiers to solve a problem. So much laid to rest on such young shoulders. Just like mine and Stephen's.

"I can wake you up," I began. "That's why we're here. But we have to find one more person."

"No," Richard yelled, and I realized then that his voice wasn't uneducated, but had a slight French accent. I didn't think English was his native tongue. "The others stuck in here with us… they are all… not right. Mad, like him!"

"We cannot let you bring them back," Arthur lamented, his pistol waving wildly. "It is what we fought so hard to stop! If he has his army, he will be unstoppable. You don't understand what he has done!"

"We _do_ understand," I shouted, and then doubled over with pain.

Stephen's arms were around me in a second and it only took one look at me for him to understand. "Listen to me," he demanded, his voice no longer consoling, but authoritative. "We want to help you defeat Elias, but in order for that to happen, you'll need to trust us. There are others in here that can feel her power. That are looking for her. If you want them to remain asleep, come with us now."

Arthur still seemed unconvinced, but Richard's hand came down on his arm, pushing the pistol down to his side. "She is just a girl," he explained. "Do you think the monster would send a child to lead us astray? He already has us where he wants us, no?"

"You trust them," Arthur inquired.

"It seems the only option."

Stephen nodded quickly, motioning to the door. "Then we should move quickly."

But we made it no farther that right outside the door before we saw them. Some were merely shadows, lumbering onward with no real purpose, while others were more substantial. A woman held a moth-eaten shawl tightly around her neck while her beady eyes fixed hungrily on me. Hands reached out and voices called in a variety of languages and Stephen pressed me behind him, Arthur and Richard flanking him on each side.

"We can't let them touch her," Stephen implored, and Arthur nodded, raising his pistol. He fired a shot, but it had no impact on the hoard before us.

The pain intensified and I felt so weak suddenly that I had to clutch Stephen's arm to stay upright. I could feel the power flowing to me from him, and I wondered if, without the connection, I'd be dead already.

"There is a window in the bedroom," Arthur announced. "We can go back through the house."

I tried to move where he directed, but my feet were slow and sluggish now. Without hesitation, Stephen whisked me up into his arms and ran back inside while Richard slammed the door behind us. The window Arthur led us to seemed warped and clouded, nothing like the clear glass I was used to. The frame protested as he lifted it, but when it finally gave, Stephen shoved me through it, and I collapsed on the ground.

And gasped in surprise.

I was on a sidewalk. A normal sidewalk in a modern street in London. Lining the street were closely packed townhomes and parked cars. Cheery tulips lined the flowerbed in front of one house and a child's blue ball lay in among the dirt and weeds.

"My… of all the wondrous things," a voice exclaimed from behind me and when I turned, I saw Arthur gazing around with his mouth hanging open.

Stephen, seemingly unfazed by the change of scenery, was by my side, lifting me to my feet. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll be fine, as long as we hurry."

His emotions were locked down behind his glasses, but I could feel the tension in his hands and in the link. He was terrified for me.

"Do you still feel the pull," he asked while Richard and Arthur moved to examine a car, commenting wildly over the "metal monstrosity" as they called it.

Closing my eyes, I thought of Kyle's body lying on the floor back in the hotel room. Focused on his face and of what Freddie had told me. And like a beacon, he pulled me towards him.

"This way," I exclaimed, moving through the small front yard and cutting between two townhomes. We stepped into a quaint backyard that was surprisingly large. A garden of colorful blossoms took up every nook and there was a delicate sound of trickling water from a stream that butted up to the yard. Over the stream, I could just see the end of a wooden bridge.

"I know where we are," I whispered, worrying if I spoke too loudly I'd ruin the tranquility of the moment. "Freddie told me about this place when you were… when we were looking for your ghost."

Stephen raised his eyebrows, but it was the only look of astonishment he gave at the mention of his death.

"We couldn't find you and Freddie thought you might have returned to some special secret place that was important to you. This was her special place. I think she said it was her aunt's house… or maybe her grandma's house? She said it was her favorite place in all the world, but she'd never really told anyone about it."

Hesitantly, I moved off towards the bridge with Stephen beside me. The exhaustion was growing worse now and my muscles were beginning to hurt… which seemed odd considering my actual body was lying unconscious on an industrial carpet.

We rounded a cherry blossom tree and moved through the rose bushes until we came upon the bridge. It was made of dark wood and spanned the small stream that carried tiny fish along the current. I could see why this was Freddie's favorite place. Part of me wanted to sit by the water and watch the sun set.

Stephen pulled me to a stop at the base of the bridge and when I looked up, I saw Kyle. He was sitting in the center of the bridge with his legs dangling over the side and his face turned up to the sky.

"Are you real," Kyle asked, his eyes slowly opening and turning to us. "Nothing in this place is real."

His eyes froze me in place. They were dark and intense. The kind of eyes that can read your soul and then smirk over your insecurities. Cruel eyes.

"We are," Stephen answered, stepping forward slowly. "You're the brother of Freddie Sellars, yes?"

"The one and only. I see she finally bothered to send for me. How delightful."

Kyle stood then, and he was nearly as tall as Stephen, his messy blond hair blowing in the wind. His pants were huge and baggy, his t-shirt black with holes. It looked like what people wore when I was five, that grungy look left over from the nineties. But there was something about him, something that I really didn't like.

His gaze finally found me and his lips lifted in a lopsided smirk. "You here to kiss me awake?"

"It's more of an I-lead-and-you-follow thing. No touching," I insisted, and Stephen took a step closer to me.

"Well, lead on. But tell me this, is my father dead yet?"

This question took me by surprise. I certainly couldn't recall any mention of Freddie's father. And as he asked the question, I saw that cruel mask that he wore slip slightly. There was fear underneath.

"You're father," Stephen questioned, and I sensed he was experiencing the same dread as me. In response, Kyle just raised his eyebrow, waiting.

"Is there a problem," Arthur inquired, appearing in the backyard among the flowers. His face was overly anxious. "Is that the one?"

Before I could respond, the pain returned, punching through my gut and nearly sending me to my knees. "We need to go. Now!"

"Where," Arthur asked. A reasonable question to which I didn't have the answer for.

It was Stephen – of course, intellectual Stephen – who guessed the answer. "Back to the hotel. Last time we had to go to Marble Arch because that was where the Oswulf stone was from, but this stone is different. I think we should return to where the stone is in the physical world."

"Sure. Whatever. Let's go," Kyle nodded, gesturing for us to lead the way.

Stephen took my hand as I limped along and we made our way back out to the street. Only now it was a different street.

"Is this what the world is like now," Richard inquired in his heavily accented voice as we stepped out on the sidewalk only a mile from the hotel. It seemed odd to me then that someone who was clearly born in France should have such an English sounding name as Richard Canterbury.

"Once you get used to it, it's not that impressive," I replied offhandedly. I was mostly focusing on the tiredness of my limbs and the fact that my heart wanted to explode. "Technology always fails, cars break down. And nothing costs a nickel anymore."

Kyle smirked at my sarcasm, but Arthur and Richard merely looked confused. And Stephen… Stephen was staring at me in horror.

"Rory, your nose," he exclaimed, and when I reached up to my face, my fingers came away sticky with blood. Just like the last time I vanquished a ghost. "And your arm."

The nasty cut Sid had opened up in my arm was now visible and my blood dripped down to the dirty sidewalk.

But instead of taking the time to panic, I started walking again. "We should keep moving. The hotel is right around that corner."

And sure enough, there it was, as dingy and rundown as I remembered. The door to our room was open, the inside dark and fathomless. A black pit. We were so close… and then the pain.

It came on so fast that I didn't even have time to react before someone grabbed my arm, pulling me to the ground. Stephen was there, landing a punch into the side of a man's face and pulling me up in the next second. The pain was so intense that I could hardly stand.

"There is more coming," Arthur yelled, pulling his pistol even though it had been proven useless here.

"We just have to make it through that doorway," Stephen implored. To me he asked, "Can you walk?"

I had my teeth clamped down on a scream and I feared that if I opened my lips to answer, all that would come out would be endless shrieks. I shook my head as silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

Without hesitation, Stephen swung me up in his arms – and then we were running.

Kyle on Stephen's heels and Arthur and Richard bringing up the rear. I could hear voices now. They were begging to be saved, not to be left behind. Begging for escape or peace or simply for us to stop. Some were sobbing or screaming. The sounds were so horrible, I clamped my hands over my ears.

One scream rose above the others and at the sight of Stephen's worried face, I realized it was mine. But I couldn't stop. The pain… the voices…

The doorway of the hotel room was before us and then…

We were consumed by the darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: I Must Bury Sorrow, Out of Sight

I was floating.

There was this one time when I was nine, I was climbing an old oak in Grandma Deveaux's backyard. It was a tall tree and most of the neighborhood kids only made it up the first five branches, but I was determined to be the bravest of them all.

"Seriously, Ror, get down," my friend, Derek, had called, watching me with nervous eyes.

I was about halfway up the tree, and instead of listening to him, I'd turned my head to face him and stuck my tongue out. It was that, that one millisecond of disrupted focus that caused me to slip. Losing my grip, I fell from the tree and landed hard on my backside.

And then, nothing.

It was all black and I couldn't feel my body or hear Derek beside me and then the volume knob on the world began to slowly turn itself up. It was Derek's voice that I heard first, calling my name. Then was the sound of myself crying. And when I finally opened my eyes to Grandma Deveaux's furious, botoxed face, I was aware that everything hurt.

And then, of course I'd been stabbed by the Ripper and bled until I was unconscious. I knew what being lost in myself felt like.

I was about ninety percent certain I wasn't actually floating and when I suddenly heard Stephen's soft voice coming from somewhere close by my head, I knew I was waking up from yet another trauma.

"Did her hand move," Boo asked, her voice startlingly loud in the quiet. "I think her hand moved."

"Rory, can you hear me?" This was Stephen, and he seemed to be right beside me.

I could feel the fatigue in my limbs, the ache in my muscles. My eyelids were heavy and very opposed to opening, but slowly, I managed to pry them up. And there he was, my Stephen. He was gazing at me with the most profound look of relief I'd ever seen.

"Please tell me we don't have to do that again," I asked, my words slurred. The part of me that was waking up was pleased that I actually remembered our adventure into Wonderland this time. Stephen laughed, the kind of laugh that was also part sob.

"No, you don't. Ever again."

Turning my head, I realized I was spread out on the bed, not lying on the floor where I'd been during the ritual. Barely any light streamed in through the open blinds at the window and when I turned my head, the clock on the nightstand said seven o'clock… at night!

"How long was I asleep," I asked.

"Nearly twelve hours," Callum explained. "For a bit, we didn't think you would wake up."

Carefully, Stephen helped me sit up, but the instant I was upright, the world began to swim and I slumped onto his shoulder. I felt so weak, I could barely move my legs and every muscle in my body hurt.

"Easy," Thorpe chastised, sitting by my other side. He reached over to grab a tissue and started dabbing it under my nose. It came away red. "How do you feel?"

"Kind of like I've been stabbed all over again. I think I just need to rest some more."

As Stephen laid me back down, I took my first long glimpse of the room. Boo and Callum stood at the end of the bed, looking anxious, but we were the only five people in the room. In fact, there was no evidence we had performed an archaic ritual at all. Was it possible it only happened in my head?

"Where's Sid? And Arthur and Richard?"

"They left," Thorpe explained, his carefully blank face not quite hiding how troubled he was underneath. "Once Arthur and Richard were up and moving, he took them to plan strategy. I think he means to instigate his plan soon."

"Killing Elias?"

Thorpe nodded.

"But… what about Kyle? Is he with Freddie? Did they leave too?" Part of me was a little angry that the three people I'd just risked my life to save hadn't stayed around to say thank you.

"In the next room being all cozy," Boo snorted, eyeing the door scornfully. "That brother…"

As she trailed off, I knew she had to feel as uncomfortable around Kyle as I had.

"I'm more concerned about you right now," Stephen cut in, his hand trembling where it held mine. Stephen didn't tremble.

"It was kind of like this last time. It took a while before I could stand up. I just need sleep," I assured him, but the worry on his face remained.

"You're nose wasn't bleeding last time. And you're so pale."

But as his fingers slid through my messy hair, my eyelids were already drifting closed.

~SoL~

It was clearly night when I woke again, with only a single lamp on in the room. Stephen was breathing softly to my left, his arms wrapped around me as he slept. For a moment, I merely watched him. Watched the slight flutter of his eyelids with his dark eyelashes, the way his lips tilted up in a small smile, the dark hair that slipped over his forehead and tickled the base of his neck. He was so peaceful, all the worry lines gone.

It wasn't until I brought my hand up to brush Stephen's cheek that I glimpsed _him_ out of the corner of my eye.

Sid.

"I thought we were done with these, now that I remember," I exclaimed, annoyance creeping into my voice. Some instinct inside of me screamed – this is a dream.

"How else are we supposed to talk," he said, his voice calm and sugary sweet. "It's not like you're protectors would let me speak to you privately. So worried about your precious safety."

"I'm pretty worried about it myself. Now just tell me what you want and get out of my head!"

A sly smile spread across Sid's face and he moved to sit on the end of our bed, just beside Stephen's feet. "Always so blunt. Fine. I'm here because I need your help, little diamond."

"I did help you."

"Now, Rory. I did tell you I still needed you after the ritual."

His words came back to me then. I'd forgotten them before, mostly from the drama of being dragged to another world. Reaching my hand up, I carefully stroked Stephen's face, even though I didn't worry about waking him in the dream. Part of me had always known what a bad idea it was to make a deal with the devil.

"What are you asking me to do," I inquired, never taking my eyes from Stephen.

Sid stood then, moving about the room like a cunning cat preparing to pounce. "Elias is old and strong. Much stronger than me and also much stronger than Arthur and Richard. We'll need more than brute strength to bring him down. We'll need the element of surprise."

Now I did turn my gaze to him. Where was he going with this? My power terminated ghosts. I was pretty certain it would do nothing to Elias. How could I possibly help?

"He has begun to question just how loyal I am to him, and for this to work, he has to trust me completely. That is where you come in. I need to deliver you back to him."

"Oh no! Absolutely not! I am so not going back to the house of ultimate evil!"

I fixed him with the best death glare I could muster, wishing I could incinerate him where he stood.

"All we need is for him to be distracted."

"And what if it doesn't work?! And he kills all three of you?! Then what? If I go through that again, I die! Remember?"

Instantly, Sid stopped pacing. When he turned, his face wasn't frustrated, like I'd expected. It was… sad, deeply sad. Resuming his seat on the bed, he reached over and ran his fingers through the hair beside my face. I huge part of me wanted to knock those fingers away, but that look on his face... The dread was building in my stomach.

"You already are dying, Rory."

I tried for a carefree chuckle, but it came out shaky. "Yeah, you said. This power will kill me eventually. That doesn't mean I want to sign up to die early."

"No, I mean the process of your dying has already begun. You only have a matter of weeks."

At this, my eyes widened in shock, but somewhere buried deep in my head, I knew this was true. Stephen had been right, of course. I did feel worse than the last time I did the ritual. As the shock wore off, the fear took it's place and as my stomach quivered, I felt angry tears slid down my face.

"You! You said doing the ritual wouldn't kill me! You promised!"

"And it didn't," Sid explained. "You are alive, aren't you? If Stephen hadn't been with you, you never would have woken up. But using the power like that, it still drained you."

I'd never felt anger like this before. It was a hurricane whirling inside me that wouldn't be quenched until it destroyed something, anything, everything in its path. Without hesitation, I launched myself at Sid, tackling him to the floor. Of course, this was a dream, so I couldn't actually hurt him, but I punched and clawed his face anyway. And he let me, never once moving to defend himself.

"You should have told me! We never should have listened to you," I shouted, my words distorted by my sobs. "This is all your fault, you selfish, spoiled little–"

"Rory," Sid shouted finally, catching my flailing hands and pinning them to my side. I was straddling him where he laid on the floor and my body felt suddenly exhausted. "We had to do it, Rory! Do you understand that? This is the only chance of saving the people we love. Do you want Elias coming after Stephen or Callum or Boo? Do you? Do you want to watch as he kills them in front of you?"

I shook my head vigorously, the crying making it impossible for me to talk.

"And I don't want him killing Sadie. We are saving the people we love."

"It's still your fault," I managed to choke out. "You and your sister and Jane. If you had just stayed asleep…"

Sid, at least, didn't argue this, but he did sit up and pull me into his lap, lying my head on his shoulder.

"It's odd," he began finally. "I've never really cared about anyone, except my sister and myself. I was always convinced that we were so far above everyone that no one else mattered. But you… there is something about you that I can't help but admire. I can tell you truthfully that I don't want anything bad to happen to you. And I'm sorry, so sorry that I can't save you."

"I…" I swallowed my sobs, forcing myself into composure so I could speak the words that were tearing me up inside. "I don't want to die."

"No one does. Why do you think Sadie and I performed the ritual in the first place? It wasn't just the knowledge, it was the invulnerability. But let me ask you one thing. If someone had to die, would you rather it be you or your friends? If you would rather run, and put your friends at risk in the hope that you can actually find a way to put your power back in that stone and live, then I'll let you. Arthur, Richard, and I will take on Elias alone, with no distraction to keep him from suspecting me. But… if you would rather it be you and you alone in danger…"

"Yes," I answered, raising my head to look him in the eye. "I would rather it be me."

"Alright then." With that, he gently lifted me from his lap and sat me on the floor while he stood. "I've hidden this in the night stand, rolled up in napkin," Sid explained as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial. "It's nothing dangerous, just something to make them sleep. You'll need to slip it into their food so that I can come and get you without a fight."

"You want me to drug my friends? No. How do I know you're not lying? That could be poison!"

"Ask Freddie. She is the one who retrieved it. She has her brother now; she has no reason to be loyal to me any longer. And believe it or not, she actually likes all of you. She wouldn't let you poison them. Ask her about it."

My face must have betrayed my hesitancy, because he continued. "If you don't, you know they'll fight to keep us from getting you, even if you told them the truth. This way, they'll just go to sleep."

Slowly, I stood, and my face turned to Stephen who was still sound asleep in the bed, his face so peaceful in sleep. "One day," I decided. "Give me one last day. You can come for me at nightfall."

"Done. So long as you don't give yourself away."

"I won't. When you come, they'll be asleep… and I'll leave with you."

One last tear made it's way down my cheek, but I refused to let any more follow. Sid was right. I was keeping them safe. And I am dying anyway.

"Jazza," I inquired. Sadly, I realized I'd nearly forgotten her in the presence of my own impending death.

"The moment you leave with me tomorrow night, I'll give Jack the word to release her."

Approaching me quietly, Sid placed a small kiss to my forehead, running his fingers through my hair one last time. "I'll see you soon, my little diamond."

And I woke up.

~SoL~

"Her pulse is certainly weaker than I would like," Dr. Marigold exclaimed from her perch on the bed beside me. It had been her face I'd woken up to this time, as she'd leaned over to examine me.

Stephen stood just by the bed, the dark circles under his eyes indicating that he'd barely slept at all. On the opposite bed, Boo and Callum sat huddled together, whispering, and Thorpe was looking gloomily out the window.

"Rory, I want you to keep your eyes focused on my finger now," she insisted as she moved her finger back and forth across my field of vision. "Good, good. Now, do you think you can sit up and eat something?"

I nodded at this and Stephen helped me sit, shoving pillows behind my back and placing a bagel in my hands. "Well," he demanded, eyeing Dr. Marigold.

"I need to run some tests, but… I'd say it is imperative that you find a way to separate her from this power."

"So, she's–," Boo began, but Thorpe shot her a look.

"I'm dying," I clarified instead, ignoring the flinch that ran through Stephen's entire body. "Faster than we expected."

Though I stated it bluntly, I didn't mention how I knew this and it didn't matter. Even though I'd slept well into the morning, I was still weak, my face still pale. I picked at my bagel, but I couldn't finish it beyond a couple bites. This made Stephen frown harder.

"We'll find a way," Callum spoke up then, his voice determined, as though he could will me well. "There has to be something in the books, or some information the Shadow Cabinet has."

"You think I haven't already looked," Stephen shouted, his voice startling in the formerly hushed room. "I've read every page and hunted down every last clue!"

"Well look again!"

"Callum, I–," Stephen yelled, but I placed a soft hand on his wrist, halting this feud before it got out of hand.

"We can look again," I promised, trying not to show that it didn't matter. Not now. "We have time. It's not like I'll drop dead tomorrow."

A tear rolled down Boo's cheek and I saw Thorpe drop his head, but I refused to lose it. I had one day before Sid came for me, and if we failed to take down Elias, it would be the last day I'd ever see any of them. I wouldn't waste it with tears.

"Then it's settled," Thorpe ordered, straightening out his dress shirt and moving away from the window. "The three of you can start in on the books again while Stephen makes a few phone calls to his contacts with the Shadow Cabinet. I have to check in on the investigation into Jazza's kidnapping. Maybe they've turned up something useful."

Thorpe started to make for the door, but just as he was reaching for the handle, he turned and made straight for the bed, laying a heavy hand on my head.

"And you," he ordered softly, "you rest up. We _will_ find a way to save you. You have my word."

And with that, he was gone. That was possibly the last time I'd ever see him. A single tear escaped.

"Right then. We'll head back to the loft and retrieve the books, yeah," Boo decided, pulling Callum off the bed with her. "We'll be back with lunch."

Marigold left shortly after that, leaving Stephen and I alone. He had barely said a word the entire time, aside from his screaming match with Callum. Had hardly spoken since I'd woken up. I'd watched his face grow stormier and stormier and now that the room had emptied, I saw how close he was to breaking.

Extending my hand, I took his, pulling him down on the bed with me. He put his arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly. "Have I told you how much I love you today," I asked him. "Because it's a lot. Like a lot a lot. They don't have a system that can measure how much I love you. If they stretched my love around the earth it would just go on and on and on and–"

"Rory, are you babbling to make me feel better," he asked, his voice low and breathy. It was then that I realized he was crying, his tears running into my hair.

"I'm babbling because I'm scared. But I can get through it because I'm with you."

Tilting my head up, I captured his lips, weaving my fingers into his hair to pull him tighter against me. I didn't care that his tears were mixing with my own or that his glasses were digging into my cheek. I was kissing Stephen, and somehow, everything was okay. In this one moment, I was overwhelmed with how thankful I was. Thankful to have met Stephen, to have fallen in love with him and to have him love me back. To have met Boo and Callum, Jazza and Jerome. To have two parents who loved me enough to search out all of London for me. How many people lived their whole lives without a fraction of what I had?

I had one day to thank Stephen for all he'd given me. One day to tell him goodbye.

Working open the buttons of his shirt with clumsy fingers, I slowly pulled him on top of me, never breaking the kiss. I was still weak and tired and our exploration of each other didn't go far beyond kissing, but they were slow decadent kisses. Kisses that I could carry with me.

"You know what I've missed doing since I was nearly stabbed to death," I blurted out as Stephen began trailing kisses down my neck. "Dancing. I haven't danced once since your birthday. I miss dancing."

"Rory, I don't think you're up for dancing. You should be resting, and I should be on the phone. I still have a few trusted contacts in the Shadow Cabinet."

"I know, I know. But… I would really like to dance… with you. Just one song."

With a deep sigh, Stephen pulled back, his eyes searching my face. I was smiling goofily at him, striving to look untroubled, but his face darkened.

"Please tell me this isn't some way to act out your favorite things before you die. Because you will not die, Rory! I won't let you!"

I smiled wider, but I couldn't quite stop the tears from welling up in my eyes. "Of course not, stupid. This day has just kind of sucked and I'd really like to dance with you for five minutes. Just to cheer me up."

Rolling his eyes, Stephen pulled his phone from his pocket, fiddling with it until something slow and classical began pouring from the speakers. He smiled as he lifted me up with him, and my arms draped around his neck. One of his arms was at my back, holding me firmly against him while his other hand lay at the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking lazy circles in my cheek.

We danced very slowly, mostly swaying softly to the music and holding each other, but it was worth it. His lips widened into a smile and he suddenly lifted me off my feet, twirling me in a circle around the room, leading us expertly around the beds. Through all of it, he never once took his eyes from mine.

"Open the link," he begged, and I sought for that invisible cord that tied us together since I'd brought him back.

I opened the passage and was instantly hit with a love so fierce it lit my entire form on fire. With a sigh, I knew he was feeling every emotion I didn't know how to express with words. He lifted me again and this time, he crushed my lips to his, kissing me as we spun.

I didn't want this moment to end. Wanted to relive it over and over forever with my lips pressed to his and his arms firm around my waist. It was perfection.

But all too soon, I was back on my feet and the song was drifting to a close.

"Once we remove the power of that stone," Stephen began as he sat me on the bed, "I will let you teach me how to dance and you can drag me to which ever club you want."

My heart squeezed painfully at the thought that this would likely never happen and I was careful to make sure the link between us was closed.

"Stephen Dene, did you just offer to go dancing? You sure you're not the one who's under the weather?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, there was a timid knock at the door. With a long sigh, Stephen moved to open the door. Freddie was behind it.

"Hi, um… can I talk to Rory, please," she begged, her eyes focused on the floor.

For a moment, I didn't think Stephen would let her in, but finally, he stepped aside. I'd half worried she'd brought her unpleasant brother with her, but she was alone.

"I, uh, I need to talk to her alone. Please," she asked, and at this, Stephen shook his head.

"I don't trust you, Freddie," he stated simply, his glare harsh enough to cause her to wither on the spot. But Freddie didn't budge.

"I know you both must hate me. But please, Rory, I need to tell you this." Her eyes were imploring, her hands squeezed into fists at her side. I'd seen her flinch at the word "hate" and realized she must have really hated what she'd had to do to us.

"No. Absolutely not," Stephen protested.

"Stephen," I blurted out. "It's okay. I want to talk to her."

"I'm not leaving you alone–"

"I'll be fine. Please."

I wasn't sure if it was my pale face or the fact that my hands had begun to shake, but I got the feeling that Stephen would refuse me nothing at that moment.

"I'll be right outside the door," he stated, throwing one last glare Freddie's way before grabbing his phone and stepping outside.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but–"

"I talked to Sid," I said, cutting her off, and saw her resigned nod.

Hesitantly, she moved to sit on the bed beside me, her eyes cast down at the floor. "I didn't want to betray you," she explained. "At first, Elias just had me keeping an eye on Jane from a distance. I truly hated her, but he knew she'd be the one most likely to find you. And when she did… he said I had to get close to you, keep an eye on you and make sure you were the real thing. I really did enjoy being a member of the squad. That's all over now, of course."

She was silent for a moment, and her face squished up as though she were holding in tears.

"I didn't know it could kill you, using that power. I just thought you'd perform the ritual and then he could let you go. No harm done."

"That's really what you believed," I asked, unable to stop myself. "Because I met Elias and he didn't seem big on the sanity."

"I didn't think you'd get hurt, I swear," she argued, but then her face dropped. "But… honestly, I wasn't thinking of much besides my brother."

"Yeah, he's a real sweetheart." She must have heard the sarcasm in my voice, because her frown deepened.

"He didn't used to be like that. We're five years apart, and he always looked after me. Always. He was the kindest brother. Helped me with my homework when my parents were busy with work. Made me a snacks after school and ran off kids that made fun of me. And then he started getting sick. It was a brain tumor. I didn't know much about them at first. I didn't know how they could change someone. Make a kind, gentle person act out and become violent. You see, he and Father never got on. He'd always accused our dad of being too obsessed with work and ignoring his kids. It was true, I guess, but it had never bothered us… until then. Kyle just became so angry, all the time. He would be fine one moment and the next he would be screaming at Father for forgetting my clarinet recital or sleeping at the office the night before. And then… one day, he came at Father with a baseball bat."

For once, I was speechless and the room was deathly silent. No sound except for Freddie's nervous swallowing. "He broke one of Father's legs, cracked his skull. For a while, they didn't know if he would recover. That was when my mum decided to perform the ritual. Kyle didn't want to do it. He hated what he'd done, and… I don't think he wanted to live with it. But Mum forced him into it. He's bitter, I think. I told him Father came through it all right. It took a few months, of course, before he was his old self, but he's fine now. And the tumor's gone, so… things can go back to normal."

"Normal," I shrieked, watching my shaking hands. "If he came back like Sid and Sadie, you just gave an unstable boy superpowers."

"Well… I haven't told him that part yet. And he's not unstable anymore. It was all the tumor pressing on his brain. He's… he will be fine."

"You're welcome then." I couldn't completely hide the bitterness in my sarcasm.

"Rory, I am so sorry for what I had to do. But he was my brother, and I couldn't just leave him like that forever. I had to wake him up."

I was about to yell, to tell her why I still had every right to be mad at her and just where she and her brother could go… when I felt something wet drip on my bare leg. Part of my brain acknowledged that I was still in the white dress I'd preformed the ritual in, but the bigger part of my brain was screaming that what had dripped on my leg was blood. I reached up and felt it running from my nose, down my lips, staining the pure white fabric.

"Oh, Rory," Freddie started, jumping up to grab a tissue which I quickly shoved under my nose.

While she was up, Freddie opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a napkin. And inside was the vial Sid had shown me in the dream.

"Sid told you about this," she asked, and I nodded. "It's perfectly safe. Just some crushed up sleeping pills; my mum's. It should take effect within thirty minutes."

I nodded, feeling suddenly too tired to continue this conversation.

"Rory," Freddie began, slipping the vial back into the drawer. "I just want you to know that I really do care about all of you… and I really am sorry. I just had to tell you that."

She left off the "before you die" part, but I knew it was there. And somehow, the anger I felt towards her faded, just slightly. I'd seen how broken Stephen was over losing his sister. Could I really fault her for all she'd done to save her brother? No, not completely.

Reaching out, I took her hand, squeezing it with the feeble strength I could muster. "I forgive you."


End file.
